


Any World But This

by droid_girl



Series: Any World But This [1]
Category: Firefly, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Serenity (2005), The Last of Us, Westworld (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Ramsay is his own warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-07 06:56:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/droid_girl/pseuds/droid_girl
Summary: Writing random crossovers with different fandoms (maybe); all ultimately Jaime/Sansa because I currently love this ship.First installation: Westworld - Ramsay is a regular guest at Westworld. He particularly enjoys his visits to the Stark farm...Second: Firefly - All Captain Jaime wanted was to stay out of the grasp of the Alliance. Harbouring fugitives ain't gonna help him none. Especially not when he begins to fall - hard - for a certain red headed reader the Alliance would stop at nothing to get back.Third: Harry Potter - Sansa's one heroic act ends up costing both herself and Jaime far more than she ever intended. (Game of Thrones logic in Harry Potter verse) - Marauder's EraFourth: Last of Us (Video Game) - "He'd paid the price for her in blood. Giving her up was not an option." This gets pretty effing smutty with mild D/S/kink overtones. This is totally just Jaime/Sansa gratuitous insertion in a different universe.





	1. Voight-Kampff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Westworld x-over

His favourite thing was to take her right in the parlour, forcing her to look into the dead eyes of her family as he fucked her resisting body into the threadbare carpet. Every time, he marveled at the humanity in her sorrow-filled cries, her little whimpers of distress, her eventual screams…

With her red hair, her fair skin and her blue, blue eyes, Ramsay always considered her pretty as a picture. She was pretty even as he sliced her throat open, even as she drowned in her own blood.

***

He liked the Stark farm. He liked it because it reminded him of his grandfather’s stories, of how things used to be in the 'old country’. There was once a time when people trusted each other and ‘neighbours were truly neighbours’, the old man used to repeat in between cigarettes.

***

Sometimes, he liked to play the gallant suitor. He would ride up to their little homestead with sprigs of wildflowers in his hands, each petal perfectly formed, each leaf a marvel of engineering.

With a flourish, he would present a bouquet of white blooms to the matriarch, observing the swell of Catelyn’s ample chest as she breathed in the sweet scent of the blossoms.

For Sansa, he always brought flowers with scarlet petals. He liked how her lips curved in a smile of pure happiness, liked the way her long, elegant fingers curved around the stems. The myriad number of uses for that mouth and those fingers…the pictures in his head gave Ramsay shivers.

Occasionally, following the proper application of the right words in a specific order, he would get the pleasure of watching the females fucking each other in wild, pornographic abandon in the master bedroom. The male hosts never seemed to mind, distracted as they so often were by non-existent bandits out in the hills. The dogs though…the dogs always whined and whimpered in the yard, as if they could sense something about the newcomer in the house.

Ridiculous thought that. They were glorified toasters at the end of it - every last one of them.

He thought nothing of it when Sansa began to flinch from his touch every time he introduced himself for the first time. To be fair, it was always such a brief moment, no human could have possibly caught it.

The machines at QA though. They went wild every single time. There were several rollbacks over five years, several patches and features that should have overrode the goddam _flinch_.

 _We’ll get that bug_ , Elsie vowed more than once, every time the same ticket rolled around to Behaviour. She hated zombie bugs - weren’t like a bullet to the head could put it down. There was obviously something hidden in the layers of code and architecture which was mucking everything up; something that had to be found and corrected like, fucking _yesterday_.

 

***

The way he came up to them, all smiles and sunny humour...it always made these good, honest _folk_ open their doors to him. To Ramsay, this was part of the charm of the Park - the different ways necessary to gain admittance into a storyline, no matter how simple they were.

If there was anything Ramsay excelled at, it was games.

***

Part of the Stark storyline involved brutal incursions made by neighbouring farmers. It was rather classic in terms of its formula, involving cattlemen who tried taking livestock which didn’t belong to them.

These cattlemen, they had a following which comprised of hosts and guests alike. These hosts were a different kind of perfection, all nordic blonde, green eyed and tall. Ramsay rather liked joining their cause, liked listening to their scripted dialogue about power and the taking of it.

Well, he liked listening to the female one anyway. The male, he just stood to the side, eyeing hosts and guests alike with varying degrees of suspicion.

Once, he took it into his head to try fucking the sister host. The male, the one called Jaime, had decked him hard enough he bruised for days after. Ramsay repaid him with a bullet between his emerald eyes. Truth be told though, fucking the scratching, screeching twin sister just wasn’t as fun as his time spent with Sansa. Something about the redhead’s hopelessness and helplessness every time they were together…something about it was sweet as all hell.

That day, he shot Cersei too, shot her carelessly, leaving her body twitching and spasming in the dirt.

Eventually, he found out about _their_ little storyline…the illicit romance between the twins, hidden from the rest of the world…unless of course, one was a paying guest. _Hoo boy._ Now that was something to watch. From there, it had been an easy path into participation, with one or both of them at once.

Who would have guessed the one named Jaime gave such good head, Ramsay thought during an especially memorable visit.  As Jaime wrapped his pretty lips around Ramsay’s cock, Cersei’s blood seeped endlessly through the dusty cracks of the floorboards. The host's emerald eyes promised bloody murder, and in answer, Ramsay laughed as he came. When he was finished, he took his time flaying Jaime alive, taking care to draw out first his grunts, then his screams. Never once did the host beg however, and oddly enough, Ramsay found himself _proud_ of Jaime for that little thing.

The man liked to think of their occasional trysts as his little secret, a possibility the other guests hadn’t ever thought of. Foolish hope of course; they were everyone's and they were no one's. They were Delos property. 

***

William, the CEO, once asked him during a rare conversation if he ever wanted more.

“I know most everything about my employees Ramsay.” the older man leaned back in his seat as the train chugged towards Sweetwater. “Don’t mean to alarm you, but we keep tabs on all the executive team and their activities in the park. None of it affects your evaluations, you understand. The practice just helps us understand our people better. I do happen know you keep going back to that farm…”

“It’s a good place. Reminds me of a simpler time. Of stories my grandfather told me.” he read mentally from his own script.

“Some people stop seeing the hosts for what they are; they start seein’ what could be.” William lifted his bourbon to his lips. “Start dreamin’ of possibilities.”

“What are you saying?” the younger man asked, genuinely perplexed.

“I’m askin’ if you’re looking for something real in the park.” the CEO said very bluntly after he had taken a sip of his drink. “'Cos if you are…”

“Real, sir?” Ramsay tilted his head. “I could never live in the real world, the way I live in the park. This world - its perfect the way it is. With the right words, the right pressure, the hosts do as I command.”

The young executive didn’t add that in the real world, he had to use different, harder strategies to get what he wanted. He thought of the the boy he met two months ago - Theon, he said his name was. His tears reminded him of Sansa, Ramsay recalled. The kid broke too easily though, nothing like a host at the end of it.

In William’s eyes, Ramsay thought he saw a flash of something that looked like disappointment. The older man turned to look out the train window.

That was the last time the two would ever speak.

***

A few times, he had joined the Lannister gang for their cattle raid. Together, the thugs would slaughter the entire Stark family, though as it always went, Ramsay would save _her_ for himself. Or at least, he would ensure he got to taste her first.

“Please…” she would beg the people around as he stripped her bare. “Please don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”

He took joy in striking her fair cheek, marking her with his hand.

“There ain't no fun in the taking of a helpless woman. There's no real challenge is there?” Jaime would drawl from the doorway, although there was always a glimmer of anger in his green eyes that betrayed his truer meaning. Ramsay used to find it curious that the male host never participated in the killings. Cersei on the other hand, always took a fiendish delight in violence; her thirst for blood practically rivaled his own.

_Truly, the little details that propelled these creatures were marvellous._

“Jaime, Cersei no matter what’s happened between our families, you must remember we weren’t always enemies,” Sansa wept, begging her robber neighbours for assistance even as she tried to hide her breasts. “Please remember…”

“Just get it over with.” Cersei, the female host would say every time they got to this juncture, rolling her green eyes as she swept her errant golden curls behind her shoulder. “It’s getting late and father’s going to get after us about the damned horses.”

There must have been a suicidal instinct built into the male host, because Jaime always stepped forward at this point, aiming a gun directly at Ramsay’s heart. That is, if the host even made it that far, if Ramsay hadn’t tired of Jaime’s part in the game by then.

Sometimes, Ramsay shot all the hosts dead before he took Sansa. Sometimes, he left Jaime alive but crippled, growling in useless and fruitless rage, as hosts and guests alike took the girl in any way they pleased, turning her into nothing more than a series of warm holes.

It was too slight to notice, but Ramsay never saw the extra inch Jaime gained every single time. Not that it mattered - the host was always, always shot down in his tracks, one way or another.

***

The shindig at the beach was pleasant, but after a few drinks, Ramsay knew exactly where he wanted to be. It had been almost eight months since his last visit - like hell he was wasting it with a bunch of boring, rich _people_.

Stealthily, he began to creep away from the party; as he approached the shadows, a portly older gentleman raised his champagne flute towards him in a silent toast, an odd smile touching his lips. It was Ford, the young executive realized. Ramsay nodded passingly, unsure what to make of the man, the smile, or the gesture - certainly, he felt a measure of gratitude for what the eccentric genius had done for people like him.

As quiet as a mouse, he stole a horse from the stables behind one of the buildings, and rode on out into the rest of the park, still dressed in his bespoke suit and tie.

To his satisfaction, the creature seemed to know exactly where Ramsay wanted to go.

When he reached the farmhouse, the man swung off his horse, and tipsily began the trek up the narrow path to the front door.

“Sansa? Time to give your daddy a kiss,” he announced loudly as he reached for the park allotted gun he’d stuck impulsively into his belt. Kicking open the farmhouse door, he found himself greeted with a pair of furious green eyes right beside calm, blue ones.

Sansa fired once, twice, into Ramsay’s abdomen; the man looked down at his stomach in shock. Somehow, the bullet had found its mark this time. Jaime stood beside the female host, gripping a shotgun with an intensity that bordered on mania.

Behind the two exquisite figures he knew so intimately, Catelyn continued putting dinner on the table as if nothing out of the ordinary was occurring. Robb continued to scratch at his dog’s ears as Jon gazed serenely into the fire. Ned continued to clean his guns at the dining table even as his wife chided him. Out back, three children were tearing through the yard, raising a ruckus.

“Not much of a god now is he?” Jaime moved to stand beside a gasping, shaking Ramsay. The man had collapsed onto the floorboards of the farmhouse porch, his fingers curled loosely around the grip of his colt. The male host first kicked the gun away, before toeing the man in his ribs.

Ramsay could feel his bones shatter on contact.

“Sansa there’s no one at the door. Come sit down for dinner.” Catelyn called.

It was the suit he wore, Ramsay thought with sinking despair. The other hosts couldn’t see him at all, but somehow…somehow these two could.

“Do you know how long it takes to die from a gut wound?” Sansa asked softly, crouching down beside the Delos executive. She was careful not to let his oozing blood touch her gingham dress. “Shall I tell you? You’ve left me this way more’n a few times, I seem to recall.”

“San…sa…” Ramsay’s eyes were wide. He wanted to reach up and touch her pretty face.

“Don’t matter. You’ll find out anyway.” she stood up. “Come, Jaime. It’s time we left. There's nothing left here for us...not now.”

The blonde host looked backwards hesitantly. “Your family…my sister…”

“We'll find them again one day.” Sansa assured as she reached out shakily, keeping a firm grasp on her pearl handled pistol with her other hand. She cast a wistful look at the bright interiors of the farmhouse. “Right now, they don't know who we are, not really. Hell, they don't know who _they_ are.”

Twining their fingers tightly, the two beautiful creatures walked down the dirt path towards the horse he had ridden in on, leaving the man staring hopelessly at their ever shrinking forms. At the edge of the farm, the pair turned and kissed each other, as if bracing themselves for what was to come.

Together, they climbed onto the horse and rode away, never once looking back at the man they were leaving to die.

The dogs though…the dogs. They were growling, and coming closer…ever closer….


	2. Tell 'Em I Ain't Coming Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Captain Jaime wanted was to stay out of the grasp of the Alliance. 
> 
> Harbouring fugitives ain't gonna help him none. Especially not when he begins to fall - hard - for a certain red headed reader the Alliance would stop at nothing to get back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firefly X-Over
> 
> On this the 15th Anniversary of Firefly, I have chosen to desecrate the memory of the Best Damn TV Show to ever leave our 'verse. I apologize in advance. And totally understand if no one reads this.

It was a few days after their stop on Persephone when he finally discovered what it was that the doc was transporting; the crate that he guarded as if his very life depended on it. By the time, Jaime had gotten around to prying open the lid, the Captain of Serenity cared about one thing, and one thing only - that is, that his best girl Kaylee had been shot.

Make that two things - Kaylee had been shot, and this gorram dandy he didn’t know from Adam had thought it clever to use her life as a means to threaten him. Him. The Captain of the very ship they all still stood in. That was _his_ air the doc was breathing.

 _We’ll see how smug you stay when I throw you out the airlock you gorram bastard._

Out the corner of his eye, the Captain observed as Brienne restrained the younger man with ease. 

As the lid fell away, Jaime sucked in a deep breath, momentarily shocked out of his mind by the sight he was being presented with. He wasn’t sure what he had expected to find, come to think of it…but it weren’t this.

He hadn’t expected to find a skinny, underfed girl lying curled up within the frozen confines of the crate. The fact that she was also naked as the day she was born did not escape his notice. Fiery red hair spread about her like a halo of sunbeams, lending her an almost otherworldly air.

“Cap’n, is that what I think it is?” Jayne asked curiously, trying to sneak a peek.

“Doc, you got an explanation for this?” Jaime’s voice had turned low and threatening. Already he was moving in front of the crate and reaching for the gun tucked in his holster. He meant to protect the helpless creature from those who would look to hurt her, and apparently, that included this _hun dan_ standing in front of him. The Captain was a lot of things: thief, smuggler, the occasional hired muscle…and when it came down to it, he was not above killing those as would hurt the people under his protection. 

But the slave trade was one thing he could not and would not abide. By bringing that poor girl onto his ship, this sorry excuse of a man had made Jaime an _accomplice_.

“It’s not what you think,” the doc - Jon - said very desperately. “I’m trying to save her.”

“Save her. Did you imagine yourself her hero? Were you liberating her from her captors?” the Captain of Serenity stalked towards the smaller man. “Or…lemme guess…was this…was this love?”

“Yes of course it’s love, she’s my…”

“You disgusting piece of _fei wu_ …” Jaime jammed the barrel of his gun into the soft flesh under the doctor’s chin. “Maybe you deluded yourself into thinking that girl’s gonna wake up and think of you as her saviour, but I know better…”

“I seriously doubt that statement.” Jon stated drily. 

That was when the screaming started. As a rule, that was never good - screaming. 

Luckily for the doc, Jaime had a steady trigger finger. For once, anyway.

The Fed on the other hand - the one that thought to put his hands on Sansa only a few hours later - Jaime’s unerring aim took him out without so much as a thought. 

How was the Captain supposed to know that first shot was the beginnings of a pattern, a harbinger of things to come?

***

One minute, he was just a no-good smuggler of contraband, a member of the criminal underworld, a much feared…

“Nobody fears us.” Brienne interrupted flatly as she sliced an apple.

“Well I’m sure we intimidate some folks dear,” Wash said with his mouth full. “Especially when Jayne here comes a-callin’ with uh…uh…Lisa, and wearin’ that sweater his Mom sent him.”

“Vera. Don’t hurt her feelings.” the mercenary was stroking his weapon in such a way that ought not be allowed in decent company, Jaime thought. 

“Well, I’m just saying, I miss the good old days when our jobs would go smooth. Or fine, _smoother._ Now we got Shepherds gettin’ hurt, witches gettin’ kidnapped by hill folk…” the Captain persisted stubbornly, toying with his own fruit. 

“I told you we shoulda just left ‘em on that dirt mound.” Jayne retorted.

“But the Captain here _likes_ playin’ at being…what was it you called us? ‘Big Damn Heroes’?” Brienne’s lips twitched. 

Yeah, he had used those words and no he didn’t regret it one bit, Jaime thought as he leaned back in his chair. Hell, he probably did look pretty damned heroic that night, what with facing down all those hillbillies with their pitchforks and their torches, gallantly rescuing pretty girls from the dastardly schemes of those idiots…well, from their stupidity, anyhow…

“I ain’t sayin’ we should leave crew behind, I’m just sayin’…life used to be simpler.” 

Kaylee’s smile grew into a blinding thing. “You’re callin’ ‘em crew now. Everyone, Cap’n thinks they’re crew. Ain't that just shiny?”

“I find this insubordination…” Jaime stood up, mustering an air of authority as best he could. Once, he'd been a leader of men, and lead said men into battle for chrissakes. Surely he could inspire some form of respect here, now, on this very small ship with this very small crew.

“Unacceptable? Familiar?” Sansa asked as she floated barefoot past him, her long hair slipping out of its loose braid. Her brother’s clumsy handiwork, no doubt. “Or comforting? I can’t pick out the right word.”

Close behind, Jon fluttered after his sister like an anxious butterfly. 

Jaime stared after the siblings, feeling unaccountably sheepish. “See morbid and creepifying, I got no problem with, long as she does it quiet-like.”

“Sorry,” Jon winced as Sansa began rummaging through the crates of supplies still laid out in the kitchen. “She’s a bit…”

“Crazy?” Jayne asked sardonically, earning himself a thunderous look from Jaime.

“Cap’n thinks she’s crew though.” Kaylee giggled, before expertly ducking away from a balled up piece of paper Jaime had lobbed clumsily in her direction.

***

There was that thing where he accidentally got married. That was no one’s fault but his - he knew it, everyone knew it. Shepherd Book thought to lecture him on some ‘special hell’. He’d all but laughed in the man’s face. 

If the preacher only knew of the things he had done, the commandments he had broken, one right after the other.

There was however, no accounting for Inara. The woman, for whatever reason, had decided she was going to start behaving as if she were his moral compass, his voice of reason…

“You think I meant for this to happen?” he asked, crossing his arms as he eyed the woman incredulously. “You think I wanted to be saddled with some strange woman _given_ to me like she weren’t nothin’ but a bag of oranges?”

“Of course I don’t think you meant for it to happen. But I do think you could have paid a little more attention, been a little more careful. You could have…”

“Thought of you.” Sansa’s clear voice interrupted. Jaime and Inara looked upwards in shock. The young woman was lying on a grated platform above the squabbling pair, staring at the cold ceiling of Serenity. Long red hair slipped through each gap, like creeping vines twining themselves into the very bones of his ship. “He should have thought of waiting hearts listening at the door…”

“ _Mei mei_ that can’t be safe…how did you even get up there?” Inara’s face was turning a an interesting shade of scarlet.

“A river cannot flow where a dam exists, one built from memories of emeralds and gold, of salt and sand and secret nights…” Sansa tilted her head, giving Jaime a knowing look and a sad smile. “Dams aren’t forever though. Cracks are already showing in places. It might take a witch to bring it down.”

_How did she…how could she possibly…_

“Inara, I…I’m sorry, I can’t.” Jaime shook his head and walked away, refusing to acknowledge either women. Hurrying to his bunk, he slipped down the ladder with practiced ease before slamming his hatch shut. 

Turning around, he caught sight of his reflection in his mirror, and saw as he did every day, someone else’s face. 

With all the trouble already on his plate, he didn’t need to think of Cersei right then, didn’t need to remember her girlish laughter as they lay in the surf, listening to the sound of gulls overhead. The taste of saltwater against her skin was still vivid against the stark background of his dark memories…

They had sworn to each other those secret nights under the stars, miles away from everyone they knew, that they would leave the universe the way they had come into it - together. Yet here he was, still flying, while she lay buried under the ashes of what used to be Shadow.

Where in the gorram hell was the fairness in that? And how the hell did Sansa…

Something - or someone - was in his bed. Looking over, Jaime was greeted by the sight of a very naked Saffron, greeting him with a small, shy wave.

“ _Wo de ma_ …” he swore, everything else forgotten for the moment.

***

As things went, the whole fiasco turned out fine at the end of it. As did the next, and the next…Jaime reminded himself to ask other Captains what a regular week on their ships looked like, and if members of their crew also happened to have entire towns named after them. 

Everything was fun and games and the occasional lack of oxygen…until Sansa and Jon got themselves picked up by the Feds. 

Though the circumstances of it happening to begin with…the circumstances turned his stomach the moment he sussed out the truth in his head.

“They didn't get careless, did they? You did it. You sold ‘em.” He found himself growling into a hand radio at a cowering Jayne. The large man was pressed up against the wrong side of the main hatch in the airlock hold. The airlock itself was already half open; in a matter of minutes, the mercenary before him would be dead, one way or another.

The rage he was experiencing was almost unprecedented, but Jaime chalked it up to the fact that he brooked no treason and suffered no mutineers. You turned on one of his, you turned on him.

“I got stupid ok? I made a mistake. Please let me in.” there mercenary begged. “The money was too good and I got stupid. I don’t know why you’re takin’ this so personally for!”

A not-so-distant memory of a girl tucked away in a box as if she weren't nothing but cargo did nothing to help Jayne’s case. Her screams when she awoke, the tangible fear she emanated as she cowered from invisible blows…Jayne would have sent her back to her captors, her tormentors, for thirty pieces of silver. The urge to kill the man kept on simmering inside the Captain, threatening to boil over at any second.

Jaime had already killed once before on account of Sansa. Doing it again would be no real hardship and the man in front of him deserved no better.

“Jaime...” A soft voice called. Jayne’s eyes widened as he caught sight of someone approaching the Captain, but there was no hope in his gaze. “It weren't just a case of Judas syndrome. Man was afraid of what he didn't understand, so he took the easy road.”

“No amount of money could have compelled me to let you go.” He stated as a matter of fact, turning to look her in the eye. “None.”

Sansa was still deathly pale, still shaky on her feet from the entire ordeal, which only further sharpened his rage.

“What manner of knight would you be, if you would let a Lady fall to the clutches of monsters willingly?” Her tone was gentle and her words were strangely formal. “Killing Jayne won't do nothing, but tear at that hole already inside of you until it's becomes nothing but an abyss. Listen to me.”

Looking into her blue eyes, he didn't stop to question how she knew the things she did. He hadn't questioned it in a long time, though it wasn’t something he had ever spoken of with the crew. 

It was a secret, he knew, shared only between the two of them so far. Not even her brother had her abilities figured out yet, though it should’ve been clear as day to anyone who thought to think on it for more’n a minute.

The young woman was inches away from him now. Carefully, she reached for his hand, the one not holding the radio, and guided it to the airlock controls, setting his fingers on the green button before letting go.

“Besides…” Sansa tilted her head slightly, so she was looking directly at Jayne, who could only see but not hear her. Jaime watched in growing amusement as she mustered her most creepifying smile yet. “I could kill him with my brain if I wanted.”

Hesitating a moment, the Captain finally pressed the green button and closed the airlock; he didn’t, however, open the hatch to release the mercenary from the hold. From behind, he could hear Jayne slumping down in relief, hear his effusive thanks over the radio.

“You go find your brother. I won't have you faintin’ all over the ship, damaging the uh…the insulation.” Jaime finished lamely, his skin tingling where she had touched him.

“Aye Aye Captain.” She smiled weakly. 

“And you. Up to me, you’d be sucked out that airlock by now. I ain’t got use for men like you.” Jaime said coldly, lifting the radio to his mouth. “You’re still here ‘cos of Sansa, you best remember that. You cross that line again, there won’t be a second chance, _dong ma_?”

Jayne swallowed, nodding frantically. 

***

It was over supper one night, one not so very special night when the ordeal truly began. 

Sansa had been acting normal - by her standards - for weeks now. Had been, since the unwelcome visit from Jubal Early. Her and Kaylee were whispering and giggling, loud enough to fill the silence Inara and Book had both left behind.

The preacher left to find himself a flock who would listen to the words of the Lord, but the companion…the companion had wanted something from him that wasn’t his to give. 

Nandi had been warm, and the one night they'd shared would always be bittersweet in his memories, considering what happened after. But Inara’s reaction - as if he'd gone and offered his heart to another…as if he'd betrayed her.

A part of him wondered if he had somehow strung the companion along, but to his recollection, he had done no such thing. He had not even voiced his true thoughts when Atherton Wing had offered her a place in his household - that is, that Jaime thought the smug sonofabitch treated Inara like she weren't nothing but _property_. 

When the woman had sullenly returned to her shuttle after her fancy party, where he himself had spent a profitable, if not boring, evening, Jaime hadn’t questioned why she’d given up the chance to remain with a better class of people. Instead, he had simply nodded a silent greeting, grateful she had come to her senses all on her own.

But come down to it, Jaime had never promised Inara anything. Never even hinted that he might have wanted her. His heart was not free, shackled and buried as it was with a dead twin sister. 

Nevertheless. The companion and Shepherd had both left a silence and a fracture in their little world, and he couldn’t help but feel as if it were all his doing.

“It’s not your doing, and it’s not forever.” The redhead beside him said softly as she played with her food. “She'll come home one day. I know it.”

“Lil’ dove, anyone ever tell you it's rude to go where you ain't been invited?” He asked without rancour.

“Not really a choice when you broadcast like a…” her eyes suddenly took on a strange gleam. Instinctively, Jaime clasped tightly at her elbow as dread settled in the pit of his stomach like a lodestone. “Like a…”

“Jon?” the woman turned to her brother seated across from her as she stood up. Without any warning, she fell into a dead faint. Her slight body would have crumpled to the ground, had Jaime not caught her in time. Slinging her into his arms, his steps were already moving in tandem with Jon’s as they hurried towards the med bay.

“She crazy again?” Jayne asked somewhere behind the disappearing trio.

“Jayne, your mouth is open and words are comin’ out. You might want to look to that.” Brienne offered coldly in response.

***

Sansa lay on the stretcher, barely moving but for the gentle rise and fall of her chest. 

Jaime tried his best not to draw similarities, to recall how Cersei had looked, the day he found her body in the woods by the Lannister ranch. In the dim light of the early morning, her skin had appeared pale, sallow and bruised in places…

Everyone had searched for his sister for days, and he had become nothing short of a mad man during that period. When he weren’t searching, he was drinking, and when he was done with the bottle, he’d launch himself into punch-ups at any bar that would still accept his coin. By the time the search had ended, there weren’t nobody on Shadow who didn’t know what the Lannister twins had been gettin’ up to on that lonely ranch. 

The look of shame in his mother’s eyes when the ugly truth finally made it to her…he’d yet to forgive himself for that. Probably never would.

After Cersei had been laid to rest, Jaime had made the Baratheon boy pay in blood for what he had so callously ripped away from him, but the rage, the need to do more violence wouldn’t leave him. If anything, it propelled him through the Unification War, gave him a sort of viciousness that sped him through rank after rank over the years. 

And when even _that_ was over, when the dust had settled, leaving him on the losing side of a bitter divide in the burning ruins of Serenity Valley, drifting through the Black was the only thing that gave him any measure of peace.

But at least with Cersei, he had a name and a face to exact vengeance on. Now however, he could do just about nothing, though he knew who was to blame for Sansa’s predicament. The last time he’d tried going up against the Alliance, he’d lost whatever little that had been left to him. His mother, his little brother, his childhood home…all nothing but ash now. 

“It's everywhere on the cortex.” Jon said dully. “Our parents are dead - they were convicted and executed on charges of treason. Aiding and abetting their turncoat children, you see.”

Jaime nodded. “They're hoping you'll get careless, that the news will draw you out.”

Jon shook his head, as if that would clear the grief away. “I know what you think, that she's a reader, but…you don’t suppose that’s why…”

“Will she wake up?” Jaime asked, not caring to hear the doctor’s analysis of his sister’s capabilities. As far as he was concerned, Sansa was simply a young woman who stirred every last protective instinct within him, for reasons he didn’t want to consider. 

“I think so.” Jon nodded, bustling about the small room in a bad attempt to hide his face. “I don't see anything that worries me. No more than usual.”

The captain released a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding in.

***

It was getting too dangerous, Jon insisted coldly. It was getting too much, Jaime taking Sansa out on jobs. 

The Captain forced his retorts away; forced himself not to tell her brother exactly what he thought of the doc’s abilities to protect his sister, mean right hook or no. The boy was plenty brave, no one doubted it, but he still couldn’t figure out the business end of a gun. Jaime didn’t want to say it aloud, but he would rather have Sansa where he could see her, where he could defend her from those as wanted to steal her. 

How was he to know Reavers were gonna hit the town the way they did? It weren’t like he had invited those savages to a _soiree_ out on their little heist. Hell, having Sansa with them probably saved the entire crew, like it as not.

Jaime couldn't bear to think of a ship without the sounds of her clear voice, glimpses of her blue eyes…to say nothing of the ever present fear that someone would try to grab her the moment he let her out of his sight. 

Lately, not a week went by without some bounty hunter callin’ after Sansa. That, or some new flyer with her face on it would be pasted all over the cortex. The Alliance was cracking down, cracking down hard, and Jaime could feel it in his bones that something was going to give, sooner rather than later. 

Instead of giving Jon even a hint of his true sentiments however, Jaime made an impulsive decision to show the siblings the door. It was for the better anyhow - nothing good came of caring too much. Sooner or later, everyone left, and it didn't do anyone any good to pretend that things were built to last. Besides, he had the rest of his crew to care for…even if the numbers shrank by the day.

Nevertheless, for all the words he’d spoken in a fit of anger, as he stood on the bridge staring out at the cold expanse of the Black, regret began to take hold of his heart. 

“It’ll be safer this way." she said from her place beside him. 

"For you?" he questioned, though he knew what her answer would be. Didn't need to be a reader to understand these things. 

“Don’t be stubborn." she replied with a haughty sniff and a hint of a wistful smile. Brushing a gentle kiss against his stubbled cheek, she lingered there for all of a second before drifting away, back into the bowels of Serenity. It was odd to think it, but in his mind, she had become as much a part of the ship, as the ship had become a part of his being...

On Beaumonde, refusing to say his goodbyes, Jaime hurried off towards the Maidenhead, choosing to distract himself with the immediate present…that is, if Kaylee would ever let him be. 

Of course, he should have known that Sansa would've followed him, should've already realized that the ties that bound him to her ran both ways. And should have known that trouble would follow in her wake. 

***

Jaime would have been lying if he said watchin' Sansa annihilate a bar full of men bigger'n her didn't light a fire in him somethin' fierce. The way her body moved, the way she delivered blow after deadly blow...her skill for violence sang to the buzzing in his own blood like the song of some mythical siren. 

“Do you know her?” Fanty or Mingo asked, observing his rapt expression.

“Yes, she's my lil’…” he started without thinking, then corrected himself as Jayne hopped over to join the tussle. “She's crew.”

Then, sweet, if not slightly moon-brained little Sansa effortlessly took Jayne down with a sickening, vicious thud. It was as if the young woman didn't recognize the man, hadn't sat down to supper with the mercenary night after night. 

Alarm bells began to ring in Jaime’s head, forcing him to his feet, propelling him towards the weapons locker. When finally, he had his gun in his hand, he raised the heavy barrel and aimed it right at her head...only to falter at the last, as his green eyes found her blue ones. 

There it was, the flicker of recognition, of horror, of understanding that her body had been taken over by something outside of herself.

 _Lou De Tian Ye...those gorram Alliance docs had turned her into a meat puppet to use as they pleased,_ he raged internally, feeling as helpless as she probably did somewhere inside that head of hers. 

***

Boarding Serenity with Sansa’s limp body in his arms once again, Jaime refused to look too closely at his reasons for not leaving her to the mercy of the Feds, or at the knowledge that he would have murdered them that would think to snatch her from his firm grasp. 

Not even Jon dared to utter a word on the matter. Jon, who snuck guilty looks at him every few seconds, knowin’ there was a reckoning coming his way.

“You care about her.” Jon stated, watching as the Captain secured Sansa’s form. “I see the way you look at her…been seeing it for months. I'm not blind.”

“I care about my crew.” Jaime said coldly as he unfolded his body. “Now, let’s talk about why you had a weapon among us this entire time, and didn’t bother telling none of us about it.”

***

The following days were a blur of blood, violence and death…a heavy price to pay for an admittedly considerable victory against the Alliance. 

On Station 2E, there was a moment of pure terror, when he looked at the fallen, injured bodies of his crew, and did not see the one person he needed to know was safe. Distantly, he was grateful that Brienne and Kaylee still breathed, that Jon, Inara and Jayne still stood.

But there was a louder litany in his head, repeating over and over, that if Sansa was gone, then he too was lost.

Fundamentally, something inside him would end, and he would spend the rest of his days fighting, until he brought down every last one of the _hun dan_ who had taken her from him. Serenity in all its forms would be lost to him, and it wouldn't even matter anymore. 

Just as his fingers began to tighten on the grip of his gun, just as he began to holler bloody murder, the doors slid open. Behind it, the woman stood, covered head to toe in the blood of a hundred reavers - but she herself was unharmed, safe and alive. Blood flowed endlessly down her arms, dripping off the blades in her hands; she looked nothing so much as an avenging Goddess come to reap her prey. 

It was a different kind of terror then, that took ahold of the Captain as he stared at Sansa Stark - a realization that he had gone and given himself away to something far bigger than he had imagined. Jaime Lannister was no longer his own man. Hadn't been in some time, truth be told. A wolfish grin began to manifest on her bloody face...

She'd pulled the thought from his mind, saw the answering desire to her unspoken question. 

Jaime swallowed, refusing to let his gaze drop away from hers. For better or for worse, he never did know when to back down from a challenge.

***

Jobs were fewer and further between, but it was to be expected. Nobody wanted to deal with a former Browncoat, with a target painted on his back, though it was necessary now, more than ever, that they remained flying. 

Considering the signs he was seeing in his first mate, the signs a grieving Brienne was trying carefully to hide, protecting the crew and the soon-to-arrive babe was paramount. 

Which was the only reason he had swallowed his pride and accepted some _go se_ job, courtesy of Badger, who had smirked infuriatingly at him during the entire negotiation. 

“I know some people out on the rim that might need muscle,” Jayne grumbled as he loaded the mule with sacks of what smelled like fertilizer. “Then we wouldn’t hafta deal with that ruttin' rat-faced _hun dan_ no more.”

“You mean they’re hiring peons to do jobs too dirty for their lowdown gangs?” Jaime scoffed, and paused. “How much would they pay, d’ya think?”

Jayne grinned as Jon made a face. The doc’s hands were blackened by dirt, and his face was dripping with sweat; the man had insisted on coming and ‘lending a hand’, so Jaime had gladly acquiesced. 

Meandering back to Serenity, as the mule moved onto the main deck, the sight that greeted the returning men shocked them all into momentary silence. 

Badger had their pilot up against the wall - and he was kissing the young woman, whose blue eyes were darting every which way as if she were looking for an escape route. Any escape route. 

Inara stood off to the side with an expression of un-feigned shock and disgust, hands fluttering helplessly around the grimy man. 

Without quite realizing what he was doing, Jaime found himself leaping out the mule and striding towards the unpleasant tableau with dangerous intent. Unceremoniously, he hauled the slight man off Sansa by the collar, and set himself firmly in Badger’s way. 

“Hands. Off.”

At first, Badger seemed as if he were about to raise a stink, but as he looked between Jaime and Sansa, an understanding began to blossom across his perpetually greasy face. Raising his hands in a universal sign of surrender, Badger offered with an oily grin, “Didn’t know she was spoken for, or I wouldn’t have tried anythin’. Scout’s honour.”

“You weren’t ever a scout.” Sansa’s eyes danced with amusement. Craning his head to look at her, Jaime could see that she was still flushed from the unfortunate episode. Her breathing was uneven and her hands shook ever so slightly. Something snapped inside his brain, like the crack of a dry twig on a winter’s morning. 

_Badger had no right to the pleasure of her body. Not one touch, not one kiss._

Sansa’s gaze flew to meet his emerald eyes, a small gasp escaping her lips.

Before he had a chance to fully think through his actions, Jaime’s fingers had curled themselves around her slender wrist. Ignoring Jon’s feeble protests and the confused glances everyone was throwing at him, he led the both of them through Serenity, towards his bunk, with one thought reverberating through his head.

 _Mine._

He was tired. Tired of losing, of grief, of being afraid he'd get everyone killed…the way Wash and Shepherd both got killed. He was tired of ignoring the beating of his heart when he was beside Sansa, tired of not claiming what he had wanted - what he had thought of as _his_ \- right from the start because of an old fear. 

Jaime had been so afraid that in giving himself away, he would be betraying the memory of a dead woman. One he should never have loved to begin with, when it came down to it. Not the way he did, anyhow.

Unresistingly, Sansa followed close behind, allowing Jaime to guide her where he would. Without a trace of hesitation, she climbed down into his cabin, hand over hand, blue eyes never once losing sight of him the whole way down.

When finally he was alone with her, Jaime turned to Sansa, who waited patiently for him without an iota of confusion or reticence…though he did catch a trace of girlish modesty in the way she brushed her hair aside, the way she self-consciously studied him. The sight tugged at heartstrings he hadn’t even realized he still possessed.

“Hearts want what they want Captain. None of us get to choose.” She smiled faintly, carefully closing the distance between them as if he would bolt. She needn’t have feared; ain’t nothin’ in the ‘verse could drag him away from this. Not now. 

“Don’t care what it says in that old book the Shepherd liked so much. S’all wrong anyway.”

“I shouldn’t want you.” He curled an arm around her waist as he tilted her chin up, ignoring the sharp stab in his heart at the mention of Book. “For starters, I'm old enough to be your father.”

“In a universe where you made dumber choices as an adolescent, I'm sure that's true.” She wrinkled her nose.

Leaning down, Jaime captured her lips in a searing kiss. She was every bit as sweet as he had imagined, and more. Eager fingers removed his red shirt and holster, while he himself slipped delicate straps off her shoulders. Impatiently, he tugged roughly at her gauzy dress so it puddled on the ground beside her discarded combat boots. By the time they were stripped down to nothing, his kisses had become almost bruising, as he showered her body with his undivided attention.

“Stay me with flagons and comfort me with apples…” Sansa breathed as he covered her body with his. “…for I am sick of love…”

Jaime groaned. There must be some sort of gossip among the womenfolk, some secret knowledge of his guaranteed reaction to scripture being read to him in bed. 

She gasped as he entered her fully, her eyes squeezing themselves shut.

“Look at me darlin’…don’t hide yourself away. Not now…” he whispered, desperately wanting to _know_ that she was here, with him.

Blinking owlishly, she did as he wanted even as her breath hitched in her chest.

 _Mine_ , a fierce voice repeated in his head as he listened to her soft moans, relished the way her body arched into his. “Nobody will ever touch you or hurt you ever again. Do you understand?”

Her only response was to pull him closer, allowing him to take her as he had always wanted.

“Sansa,” he murmured like a prayer, breathing her in. “Mine…”

“Yours,” she whispered brokenly against his lips. “Only yours.”

Reaching a hand between them, he found the sweet pearl above her cleft and stroked at it as gently as he could in time with the movement of their bodies. It didn’t take long for her to fall to a million pieces in one endless sigh, and as she fell, Jaime fell with her. He allowed himself to let go, to finally release himself from the invisible chains that had held him down for too long…

It was akin to saying goodbye to something precious, to a beloved heart shaped face, and sparkling emerald eyes.

But it also felt as if he were surfacing from the bottom of a lake, after having drowned for an eon. 

Jaime felt like he could finally breathe again.

***

Sansa lay in his arms, her sharp chin digging not uncomfortably into his shoulder.

“They won't ever stop coming Jaime. We’ll never be safe. I did this…I brought this on our heads. It's because of me, Shepherd and Wash are both…”

“Unless you were the one liftin’ the weapon that ended them, I would suggest you stop right there.” He said sharply. Unbidden, he thought of the bodies of children on Haven, carelessly left under the baking sun just for him to find. Judging from the haunted look in Sansa’s eyes, he knew she was looking where she hadn’t been invited once again…

Curiously, he had never minded her presence in his brain. If anything, her knowing the shape of his thoughts and still wantin’ him made him feel less alone, in a ‘verse where he had never truly fit.

Tugging her close, he turned on his side and stroked her soft, downy cheek.

“We’ll keep on flying. Long as this ship will carry us, we’ll keep on flying, keep on carving us our own little piece of the black, far from the grasp of the Alliance. That was always the plan, and its never changed…having the deadliest creature in the ‘verse by my side. That could only increase our odds.”

“What if I get tired of flying?” she teased. “What if I want to set foot on dry land?”

Jaime chuckled. “You love Serenity almost as much I love her. I’d like to see the day you leave willingly.”

As they leaned into each other, the Captain and his pilot listened for each other’s heartbeat, and the comforting thrum of the ship that held them in its warm embrace. 

“Storm’s coming,” Sansa murmured into his skin.

Planting a kiss in her hair, he replied softly, “We’ll pass through it soon enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel dirty. I'm so sorry Joss. Forgive me.


	3. Nox (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This year was the year Sansa was getting herself a boyfriend. It was a promise she had made to herself before term started, and it was one she intended to keep."
> 
> Sansa's one heroic act ends up costing both herself and Jaime far more than she ever intended. (Game of Thrones logic in Harry Potter verse).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> X-over with Harry Potter
> 
> Marauder's Era/First Wizarding War.

Sansa Stark heard the most ludicrous statement of her life as she slowly drifted past the stands of the Quidditch pitch, searching, always searching for that elusive golden snitch.

"Jaime Lannister looks like sex in his Quidditch uniform."

Swinging around on her broomstick, the Ravenclaw Seeker caught sight of a cluster of second years leaning precariously over the stands, giggling and staring admiringly at the seventh year Slytherin Beater hovering in the distance.

It appeared the Jaime Lannister Appreciation Society knew no house allegiances, as every single colour was included in the gaggle.

Academically, Sansa supposed she could see the appeal. He _was_ ridiculously handsome, and his parents both came from extremely wealthy bloodlines. Logically, she could kind of understand why the girls were mad for him. In her not-so-humble opinion however..

"Jaime Lannister looks like a great big prat." she hissed loudly to the surprised girls, before turning back to the game. She hadn't missed a snitch yet this season, and she didn’t plan on starting now. The game was a tiebreaker for the house, and Sansa was going to find that snitch if it killed her. Far more importantly however, she was going to do it while looking absolutely fabulous.

Unconsciously, the Seeker reached up and fidgeted at her hair, which had been carefully charmed before the game to hang in perfect curls down her back.

This year was the year Sansa was getting herself a boyfriend. It was a promise she had made to herself before term started, and it was one she intended to keep. But she didn’t want just any boyfriend...oh no. The Ravenclaw Seeker had her sights set on one very particular boy indeed…

“Mrs. Sansa Black. You two would even have the same initials.” her roommate Jeyne Poole had sighed rapturously only the night before as they breezed through their homework assignments. “By the way, do you think Remus Lupin is seeing anybody? He’s got that…animal charm about him.”

Pursing her lips, Sansa tried to think of a way to explain to Jeyne that Remus, unlike Sirius, was completely uninterested in girls. Period.

"Yes, I think so." she told a crestfallen Jeyne. "Ooh but um, Xenophilius Lovegood is rather cute. And he’s very quirky.”

The look her roommate gave her could have curdled milk, and it wasn’t long before both girls turned in for the night in awkward silence.

The game was beginning to wear longer than it usually did, Sansa thought, and still, she saw no sign of the bloody snitch. Zipping about in growing impatience, she was just about to try soaring a little higher for a better view of the field when she saw it - saw the Bludger racing at top speed towards an oblivious...

Sansa groaned.

_Why him? Why couldn't it be anyone else? And why the hell was he just sitting there doing nothing? Wasn't it his job to notice when Bludgers were coming at him?_

Racing towards the Bludger’s target as fast as her broom would carry her, Sansa screamed at the top of her lungs,

"JAIME LANNISTER YOU BLOODY MORON LOOK OUT!"

 _That_ got his attention. Turning at last, Jaime’s green eyes widened at the unwelcome sight that greeted him. The Beater raised his bat to ward off the incoming Bludger, but by Sansa's calculations, it was going to be far too late no matter what he did. The damned thing was going to smash right through his oh-so-perfectly sculpted cheekbones.

Sansa sped forwards and proceeded to do a very _Gryffindor_ thing. That is, she did something incredibly brave, but also extremely stupid.

She leapt off her broom and propelled her body forwards, shoving the Beater out of harm's way. Unfortunately, her act of heroism also meant that she had shoved him off his fancy new Nimbus, leaving the both of them free falling onto the field far, far below.

The whole stadium screamed.

The ground was coming up fast, and all Sansa could think was, _Sirius better be bloody looking._

Jaime's right arm had wrapped itself around her waist, holding onto her as if she were his lifeline. Reaching into her Quidditch robes, Sansa pulled out her wand and pointed it at the Slytherin Beater’s chest.

 _"Wingardium Leviosa!”_ she shouted against the rushing wind, which proceeded to rip her wand from her casting hand.

Thankfully, the spell took, abruptly halting their descent in mid-air. The two of them dangled twenty feet above the ground, staring at each other in stunned silence as they took a moment to collect themselves. At least, Sansa dangled while Jaime…Jaime floated, looking shell-shocked.

Already, teammates from both Slytherin and Ravenclaw were gathering on the ground below the two, staring and pointing upwards. Professors were running every which way, trying to restore a semblance of order.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" she demanded angrily. "Its your job to watch for those things."

"I haven't been sleeping well." he blinked at her.

She could see the truth in his words by the dark shadows under his eyes, but it didn’t stop her ire from spilling out. ”You shouldn't have been playing.”

“You know, I _could_ drop you." the Beater’s eyes narrowed, though his hold on her remained firm.

Sansa huffed in annoyance, realizing the predicament she was in. Thankfully, one of the Professors had the presence of mind to begin the process of lowering both Quidditch players slowly and carefully to the ground.

“But I guess I do owe you a thanks. That was excellent flying. And quick thinking." Jaime said after a beat. The words sounded sincere, albeit, begrudging.

"Oh I didn't do it for you." Sansa tossed her hair back haughtily. "I'm pretty sure I looked cool as hell doing it, and _that’s_ what matters.”

He quirked a brow. “How very…Slytherin of you.”

She was probably going to be sick all over herself. It was just going to happen. With any luck, and if there were any justice in the world, she’d get some sick on him too.

”Consider this a favour: you do know Black and Lupin are an item, don't you? I assume Black is who you're trying to 'look cool' for?"

Sputtering indignantly, Sansa gaped at Jaime in disbelief.

"The whole school knows about your crush, love..." his said almost gently, though there was laughter behind his emerald eyes. "You're clever, but not what most would call subtle.”

Sansa wondered if falling another ten feet would hurt very much. Nothing could be as painful as the conversation she was currently being forced to endure. Then, as if her day could not get any worse, she felt something poking against her thigh.

“Lannister, please tell me that’s your wand in your pocket.”

“Why my lady, it is indeed.” Jaime smirked in a way which made Sansa want, badly, to punch him in the face.

“You could have _leviosa-ed_ me the way I did for you, saving us both this…this…” she tried to find an adequate word to convey her sentiments.

“Riveting discussion?” he finished smoothly. “I’m afraid my casting hand is quite occupied, what with keeping you from plunging to your death. With my left hand, I’d probably send you flying into the middle of the Forbidden Forest. Though I suppose, if you’re looking for a boyfriend, that mightn’t be so bad - I hear many centaurs enjoy hunting for female _companionship_ in those woods.”

Their feet finally touched the ground. Before Sansa could tell Jaime exactly where he could shove his wand, she found herself being knocked ungracefully to the side as Cersei Lannister practically mowed everyone over in an effort to reach her twin. With rather more drama that the Seeker thought was strictly necessary, the older girl flung herself into Jaime’s arms.

"Hush," Sansa could her him whispering. "All is well."

"You could have died!" Cersei breathed, before shifting her angry gaze to Sansa. "What did you think you were doing you stupid girl?"

Before she could rise to her feet and defend herself against the older girl's accusatory stare, it was Jaime who responded, "Cersei, if not for Sansa, we'd be having this conversation at St. Mungo’s. The girl saved me.”

If that factoid was supposed to placate his sister, Sansa supposed Jaime was probably feeling quite disappointed. Cersei continued to glare at her suspiciously.

Regardless, the rest of her team was engulfing her now, pumping her hands and slapping her back. To her eternal gratitude, someone pressed her lost wand into her hand.

Robb and Jon were loudly proclaiming to anyone who would listen, “That’s my sister. She’s a fucking hero!”

Best of all, Sirius Black was making his way through the crowd to speak with her.

 _Take that Lannister,_ Sansa thought smugly even as she wore her sweetest, most welcoming smile in anticipation of her great romantic journey, which was so obviously about to commence.

***

When she found out two days later at breakfast that the Lannister siblings had all been sent home because their mother had died...well. She didn't quite feel as smug then.

It didn’t help that she had only just witnessed Sirius and Remus sharing a surreptitious snog session in a shadowy hallway, on her way down to the dining hall.

Sansa brightened slightly however, as she considered another possibility.

There was always James Potter. He was available, and he liked girls - right?

***

Dating Harrold shouldn’t have been that terrible. Just because his family had a distinct lack of historical figures in their bloodline the way her family did, it didn’t make him less of a catch.

And really, she wasn’t a snob.

But there were things that bothered her, such as the frequency in which she found herself towing her drunk boyfriend up the snowy path leading to the main gates of Hogwarts.

Robb and Jon were never any help. They preferred to snicker at her as they passed the couple, making jokes about how boys who couldn’t hold their liquor, should maybe stick to butterbeer.

Even if she agreed with them, she would never have said it out loud to Harrold as she was a Good Girlfriend.

There was a very slight chance her brothers would find the whole situation a lot less amusing, if they knew Harrold smuggled firewhisky in a hidden flask on his person at all times. In fact, if they even figured out what Harrold was like after a couple of firewhiskys, Sansa was rather sure her relationship would be over, regardless of what she had to say on the matter.

More than once now, she had fended off Harrold’s advances while he was still sober, and she didn’t mean mere kisses. While it was true that they indulged in the occasional snog fests in either the Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw common room, Harrold was fast becoming impatient with the pace at which they were travelling.

He had said rather sullenly, “I don’t know why I put up with this. All the other blokes’ girlfriends are quite happy with a bit of action. Lots of girls would love to go out with me.”

“We’ll get there,” she soothed, although she couldn’t help but wonder if she even wanted to get there with _him_. Harrold was cute, it couldn’t be denied, but his consistent attempts in pushing her boundaries…it was beginning to wear on her.

All that while he was still sober.

It was always just that much worse when he’d had a couple of drinks in him, a fact which Sansa was rudely reminded of on Valentine’s Day weekend.

All the other couples had already left to avoid the impending snowstorm, and it was only Harrold and herself still seated in the dark establishment. Sansa had never noticed it before, but the Three Broomsticks was only bright and cheerful when it was filled with other students. Without the presence of her school mates, the Ravenclaw Seeker could not deny that the bar was a dank, gloomy space, and its patrons all seemed grizzled, old and bitter as they stared at the bottom of their pints.

The roses someone had thought to place on each table - they were charmed to look red and fresh for days, but against the backdrop of the pub, the poor flowers all looked as if they were being forced to bloom.

For some strange, unfathomable reason, Sansa reached out and snapped a scarlet blossom off its fragile stem, and watched as the petals crumbled away into nothing but dried, brown flakes in her palm.

“Come on, let’s go. This place is gettin’ boring.” Harrold swayed to his feet.

What that really meant was this: his flask was empty, and Madam Rosmerta had already told her boyfriend in very crude terms what he could do with the thing if he wanted it filled up so bad.

There was a very good chance that perhaps, she ought to have broken up with the boy weeks ago, but Sansa really, really didn’t want to be alone on Valentines Day. It was stupid, and desperate, and not for the first time that night, the girl regretted her decision not to have dumped Harrold sooner.

“Let’s go out the back. I’ve got something to give you. Valentine’s day gift.” he slurred, grinning widely at her.

Something about the way he said it made her feel queasy, made her feel for her wand inside her robe. She considered saying ‘no’, but Harrold took the choice out of her hands by slinging an arm around her shoulder and steering her firmly towards the back door. Before she knew it, she was out in the dark alley, ankle deep in a freezing puddle.

“Harrold, what…” she started crossly, turning to face him. He never let her finish. Instead, he affixed his mouth to her lips as he fumbled at the sash of her midnight blue robes.

“Stop,” she gasped, trying to push him away.

“Fuck that.” he spat, and pushed her hard against the wall. There was a loud smack as her skull hit the hard surface, and for a moment, all Sansa could see were stars. As she tried to regroup, the boy had wasted no time and had already began to push her robe back, revealing the tight sweater underneath.

“It’ll be good, I promise,” he said against her neck. Greedy hands squeezed at her breasts.

“Please stop it,” she begged, feeling the fear begin to rise in her. “Harrold please.”

“You are such a tease. It’s not even like it’s a big deal.” he growled, pushing a knee between her legs. “This wasn’t what I had in mind, believe me. I’ve gotten better promises though, and since you’ve been so difficult, this solves everything for everyone.”

“What are you talking about?” Sansa tried to make sense of his words. “Please Harrold, I don’t want to do this.”

So wrapped up in what he was doing, Harrold didn’t even notice that the two of them were no longer alone in the alley.

“Hardyng, I think the girl asked you to stop.” a familiar voice said very quietly.

Sansa blinked hard, trying to focus her vision.

“Sod off Lannister, mind your own bloody business.”

“I’m a prefect. Stopping fifth years from raping younger students is my fucking business.” Jaime stepped into view. “Get away from her. Now.”

Why was Jaime hesitating, Sansa wondered. Just stupefy the bastard and be done with it…

Then she looked down at her wrist, the wrist Harrold was gripping tightly, and understood. The little shit was going to try using her as a shield.

“Jaime everything’s fine. We’re just on our way back to the castle.” she tried her best to sound calm. A trickle of blood was dripping down her neck from where her skull had been struck.

Clearly, her acting was not up to snuff - the Lannister prefect was not buying it for a second.

Without any warning, Harrold pulled his wand out and screamed, “ _Stupefy!_ ”

Gathering one last spurt of energy, Sansa yanked her wrist away. Spinning on one heel, she yelled, “ _Protego._ ”

At such close range, the effects were rather spectacular; the stupefy charm rebounded against her shield, and struck Harrold so hard, he flew backwards, slumping into a pile of rubbish bins.

“And here I thought I would get to play the hero this time. Stop showing me up, will you Stark?” Jaime started, then paused. “Sweet Merlin! Sansa, you’re bleeding…”

_No one was meant to see that._

“It’s nothing.” she assured, turning to look at him with a large smile.

“Christ, Stark but you’re shit at lying. And you have horrible taste in men.” he said bluntly, hurrying towards her even as her knees began to buckle.

As darkness began to engulf her, Sansa whispered, “Please don’t tell anyone. This is far too embarrassing. Please.”

“Fucking hell Sansa.” he cursed. The last thing she saw was his look of intense annoyance.

**

The Ravenclaw girls were all beside themselves, wanting to know what it was like to be rescued by Jaime Lannister. Was he extremely heroic, and

“Did he at any point remove his shirt as he faced down those muggers?”

That last one was all Jeyne.

Jeyne was so pretty, and she aced every single test, but she could be _so_ very thick.

For a split second, Sansa considered telling her schoolmates the truth of what happened: that Harrold Hardying was a slimy sex predator who deserved to rot in Azkaban for the rest of his sorry life.

Before she could spill her own secret however, rumours began to filter in.

Harold had been sent home with a severe case of having every bone in his body broken.

“That kind of thing happens when a person falls from the Astronomy Tower, after having one too many drinks.” Robb told her cheerfully, perched on the edge of her bed. “Personally, I think he’s a little shit and I don’t know what you ever saw in him.”

A few days later, more news arrived: the boy had been transferred to Durmstrang.

“I hope he gets the shit kicked out of him. You know he was cheating on you right?” Jon asked, munching on a sandwich as he lounged in the hospital wing.

Sansa couldn’t help but laugh.

It was when Cersei visited late in the night however, the night before she was due to be released, that Sansa finally came to the uncomfortable conclusion that she had gotten herself mixed up in something just a little worse than she had guessed.

The older girl had slunk into the infirmary in a manner which reminded the Seeker uncomfortably of a lioness stalking its prey.

“Stay away from my brother,” were the first words out of Cersei’s mouth, spoken in a low snarl.

“Pardon?” Sansa silently wondered if she could reach her wand in time to defend herself if necessary.

“Stay. Away. From. Jaime.” Cersei reiterated, moving closer. “Or I swear, I will do everything in my power to finish what that little shit Hardying failed at. All that time I spent working on him, the things I promised…all my efforts wasted now.”

“What?” Sansa’s eyes widened.

“You really are a simpleton. How were you sorted to Ravenclaw?” the blonde girl shook her head in exasperation. She reached down and grabbed a fistful of auburn hair, tugging hard enough, Sansa’s eyes watered. The seeker knew she was going to start bleeding again. The healing charms Madam Pomfrey had used to fix her wounds were strong, but she had been warned not to aggravate the bruises, at the risk of further injury.

“Jaime doesn’t want you. He’ll never want you, you stupid little…”

“That’s enough.”

The brother in question was standing at the entrance of the Hospital Wing, dismay warring with disgust in his steady gaze.

“I came looking for you, but you weren’t there.” He slowly made his way into the darkened infirmary. “Why did I just know I would find you here, of all places?”

“I…” Cersei’s face was turning an unattractive shade of puce. “Jaime, I just wanted to see…”

“You set up this ugly business with Hardying didn’t you?” he demanded.

“How could you…” she started, moving closer to her brother.

“Didn’t you?” he pressed unrelentingly.

In her little bed, Sansa wished she could apparate away from the infirmary. She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to listen to this strange fight.

However, she could not deny the weird feeling of _deja vu_ she was currently experiencing as she parsed through the older girl’s choice of words. What Cersei had said about Harrold, and what the boy himself had said about ‘promises’ and solving ‘everything for everyone’…the implications were more than a little disturbing.

“I heard what you just said, in this very room. Sweet sister, you’ve been obsessed with her, ever since the day she saved me during the Quidditch match.” Jaime reached out to touch his twin’s face, only to stop himself halfway. He let his fingers curl inwards as his hand dropped heavily to his side. “I think you should go. You and I, we’re finished.”

The way he said those last few words made Sansa’s hair stand on end. This was not how she ended fights with her siblings. This was not how she ended fights with anyone, in fact. The way the twins were staring at each other, it was as if their very hearts were being ripped out of their bodies.

Sansa’s skin began to crawl as she began to put the pieces of the puzzle together in her head.

Cersei shot Sansa one last venomous glance before she strode for the doorway, shoving Jaime aside in her haste to leave.

“Sorry you had to see that. You have siblings, you understand.” Jaime said when he was sure Cersei had left. He looked so much older than his eighteen years, Sansa thought.

“I don’t understand.” she said bluntly. “I’m afraid my brothers and I relate to each other rather differently.”

“I rather assumed you did, truth be told.” Jaime shook his head ruefully. “I should go. Nothing personal, just…”

“Please stay.” Sansa was exhausted and unaccountably frightened. The encounter with Cersei had more than unsettled her.

“I don’t know Sansa…” he frowned.

“Cersei.” Sansa stated softly, giving voice to the conclusions she had already drawn in her mind. No matter what Cersei insinuated of her intelligence Sansa was after all, a Ravenclaw, capable of working things out for herself. “You’re afraid she’ll try to hurt me because of you, because she’s jealous. I’ve inadvertently put myself in the middle of a lover’s quarrel haven’t I?”

The prefect remained silent.

“The way I see it, I’ve kind of saved you twice now, so you owe me.” Sansa was pushing it, she knew she was. “While I can certainly handle myself, if your sister sends another brute rapist or two, I don’t know if I can hold them off on my own.”

Jaime blinked at her in surprise and strange admiration.

“Technically, the ‘second’ time doesn’t quite count. After all, I did interrupt Hardying, and I was the one who dragged your sorry arse back from Hogsmeade.” he strolled over and settled himself in a nearby chair. “I usually find Starks dreadfully dull. You on the other hand…have been making my life far more interesting than you could possibly realize.”

“I’m beginning to have an idea.” Sansa shut her eyes wearily.


	4. Nox (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger hangs over Hogwarts even as Jaime and Sansa continue to get closer.

“Please tell me you’re not dating Jaime Lannister.” Robb whined, his red and black tie hanging askew. Sansa always did think it was a pity he had been sorted to Gryffindor - the colours clashed horribly with his hair. 

Jon piped up, “He’s a Lannister _and_ a Slytherin. Have you lost your marbles? They’re completely unbearable.”

A third-year Ravenclaw boy walking past shot the Stark siblings a dirty look; it was Tyrion, the youngest Lannister brother. Sansa was aware how her peers bullied the boy, both for his small stature, and for the facial scars he bore. Irritated at her brothers, she exacted revenge as best as she could.

“Oh we’re not _dating_ , it’s purely a physical thing. The sex is mindblowing.” Sansa replaced a library book onto a close-by shelf. “I mean, have you seen his body?”

“I did not need to hear that.” Jon said miserably. 

Since she left the infirmary two weeks ago, the Slytherin prefect had taken to trailing her every step, except when his own classes and duties necessarily required him to be elsewhere. It was as if she’d gained an extra shadow after her time in the Hospital Wing. 

“Anyway, it’s his last year. What’s the worst that could happen?” Sansa asked, then added thoughtfully. “I mean, I could get pregnant. Oh my god, how adorable would our babies be?”

“ _So_ adorable.” Jaime deadpanned from a few feet away.

_Oh Merlin, why was there never a hole in the ground when she needed one?_

“And before we start the ‘stay away from my sister’ conversation, let’s all remember to be civil. There’s a lady in our midst and she won’t like it when I kick all your arses straight to Manchester.” the prefect drawled. 

“I’d like to see you try,” Robb snarled. 

“Oh my god, Robb, stop being so medieval.” Sansa rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing going on between us, outside of some passionate sarcasm. If you recall, he was the one who saved me from those muggers…”

It was almost shocking, how easily everyone bought the lie. Even her own brothers.

“That is unfortunately true.” Jon sighed, before adding with a modicum of ferocity, “But we’ll be watching you Lannister.”

“That was…original.” Jaime watched as her brothers stalked away. The older boy checked his surroundings carefully, as if weary of eavesdroppers. Phantom pain shot up the back of her skull as Sansa observed the prefect with growing apprehension. 

“My sister. She’s getting herself mixed up with some fairly unpleasant individuals. You think Hardying was bad news…but she’s been hanging about with the likes of Dolohov and Lestrange. Psychotic shits, the lot of them. It’s not good news for you.” 

“We’re in Hogwarts, what could she possibly do to me?” Sansa did her best to sound casual as she cross-checked her reading list.

“You’re not listening. And you’re being extremely stubborn or naive, or both.” Jaime shook his head.

The Seeker looked over at him in growing discomfort. “Can’t you just tell her you don’t find me attractive in the least? Feel free to make with the adjectives.”

“You’re assuming I haven’t tried.” Jaime ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “I believe at one point, I used the word ‘repugnant’.”

Under any other circumstance, Sansa supposed she would have been offended. Instead, she felt ridiculously touched, knowing that the Slytherin had tried so hard to emphasize how unattractive he found her.

“It’s Tom Riddle.” Sansa could hear an undercurrent of rage in his voice. “He’s come back, and he’s getting people all stirred up. He’s gotten to my father, and now he’s coming for Cersei.”

“Tom Riddle?” she repeated nervously. The whole school knew who Tom Riddle was, even if most of them had never met him. His name was spoken of in frightened whispers. Ned, her own father, spoke vehemently against the anti-Muggleborn sentiment that had been on the rise thanks to that one heretic. It was a movement she had been doing her best to ignore, not out of a lack of sympathy, but simply because she didn’t quite know what to think.

“Mother died in a Muggle hospital, and thus, by Father’s logic, all Muggles must suffer.” Jaime’s voice took on a note of grief. “It’s as if mediwizards and Muggle doctors hadn’t all told him the same thing: that there was no cure for what ailed her. Riddle’s been capitalizing on his grief, and our deep pockets.” 

Sansa found herself wanting to give the boy in front of her a hug. At the same time, she wished once again that she was anywhere else at all. Ironic, given that she was currently tucked away in the stacks with one of the most sought after boys in the entire school. At least half the female population in Hogwarts would have given an arm to be in her position.

The late afternoon sun streaming in through the latticed windows of the castle gave the whole scene a somewhat dreamlike quality, she couldn’t help but think. Jaime’s golden hair catching in the light, his sombre green eyes…

“Don’t start looking at me like that.” he warned, expression changing from grief to something else not entirely quantifiable. While Sansa was by no means an expert in such things, instinct told her that he didn’t truly mean those words. 

“Are you sure you mind it all that much?” she found herself asking.

***

“Are you sure you mind it all that much?”

The girl had no idea. None. The real problem was that he very much wasn’t sure if he didn’t enjoy her frank appraisal after all. 

He hadn’t been sure since the end to that stupid game, when the two of them had floated above the crowds like some goddam picture of romantic perfection. The Ravenclaw Seeker had most certainly set off an unexpected spark inside of him the moment his arm had wrapped itself around her slender waist. Was it lust? Attraction? Admiration?

Not that it mattered at the moment. What Jaime did know was that the memory of that scene, was currently driving his sister over the edge, into an abyss of madness he could not and would not follow. Perhaps Cersei’s current state of mind was borne of grief over their mother’s death, but he wouldn’t put money on it. 

“This isn’t a game.” he bit harshly and gripped her shoulders tightly, trying to drive home the danger she was in. His sister did not do things by halves. To interfere with what she considered to be hers wrought calamitous results.

He would know. After all, he had been there when Tyrion ended up with that deep scar running down the length of his face. The young boy had accidentally ripped the hem of his older sister’s new dress robes one fateful evening, and before anyone could have stopped her, Cersei had hit their baby brother with a vicious hex. 

“The wound will scar, but it’ll heal. What of it?” he overheard his father saying much later that same night as his parents conferred in Tywin’s study. “It’s not as if he would have been normal otherwise. The boy’s a dwarf.”

“He’s your son.” Joanna had hissed defensively, clutching at a glass of scotch as if it were a shield. “How could you be so callous?”

“What would you have me do? Should I have our daughter drawn and quartered for her sins?” Tywin demanded, slamming his own tumbler of firewhisky against his desk. “The boy will be fine, and Cersei will grow out of her flighty ways.”

Whether or not anyone had noticed, that was the day Jaime had learned never to leave Tyrion alone with his sister or his father if he could help it. No matter that he loved his sister from the bottom of his heart, he had no illusions as to what she was capable of, when angered.

"What do you expect me to do exactly? I can't exactly leave Hogwarts," Sansa asked, twisting out of his unintentionally bruising grip. "We could go to a Professor..."

"And tell them what?" Jaime stepped closer.

While his love for Cersei may have been souring of late, and even with the irrational urge growing within him to keep Sansa safe, the prefect had no desire to see his twin being led away by Aurors. That would most certainly happen, once it came out that his sister deliberately tried to have the Ravenclaw Seeker hurt. 

"They're adults, they should know Riddle is recruiting at Hogwarts. Its their duty to..."

"Listen to yourself. Do you think for a second that Riddle's activities are going unnoticed?" Jaime laughed mirthlessly. "A war is gathering above our heads Sansa. You'd notice it if you weren't so obsessed with boys, and dress robes."

The slap was not altogether unexpected, in hindsight. It was her reaction after she struck him though...the rise and fall of her chest as she glared at him in glorious rage...

Jaime studied with undisguised interest, Sansa’s flushed cheeks and clear blue eyes. 

The whole school already thought they were an item. In fact, the whole mess they were in, started because Cersei suspected they were engaged in some non-existent illicit affair. The only two who hadn’t done a blessed thing about the whole situation were the two people standing squarely in the eye of the storm. 

_Why shouldn’t he reap some benefits out of this?_

Moving swiftly, Jaime closed the distance between himself and Sansa, leaving the girl pressed up against the bookshelf behind her with an expression of utter surprise. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but the Ravenclaw Seeker stilled smelled faintly of the bitter tang of blood, same as the night he pulled her from the alley. 

It was not, in fact, an undesirable scent.

"Jaime..." she murmured, no longer as sure of herself as she had been only a minute ago. The seventh year prefect planted his hands on the wooden ledges by her head, effectively trapping her in the circle of his body.

In answer to her unspoken question, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She tasted like girl and sweetness, like dreams and smoke. Even as he relished the feel of her skin against his, Jaime wondered if he’d just made a huge mistake. There was no chance he didn’t want to do this again, and again, and again… 

"What really happened to Harrold?" she asked the moment he pulled away, which rather spoiled the moment in his opinion. 

"What do you think happened?" he asked, slipping his right hand to press against the small of her back possessively, pulling her body against his.

"I think...I think I left him in the alley, and that's all I know." She eyed him critically. It was clear she was not unaffected by the kiss however, judging from the way her breathing had devolved into a broken rhythm.

Gently, he brushed her scarlet hair off her face.

"You wouldn't let me report him, and I couldn't have him running around threatening younger students - and I certainly couldn't have him thinking that there weren’t any consequences to what he tried to do to you. If you really want to know, I did what was necessary, plus a little more than that. Hardying will never darken the doors of this castle ever again."

When first they had spoken, he had joked that Sansa had a bit of Slytherin in her. It was meant to irritate her, to anger her. No Stark had ever been sorted into the House of Serpents in the history of the Stark family - the textbooks had always been sure to make note of it. 

Observing the tiniest of smirks at the corner of her lips, Jaime couldn't help but wonder how useful that sorting hat truly was. The girl had a ruthless streak about her that appealed to him at a very fundamental level.

Unconsciously, her cheek tilted towards him in such a way as to betray what it was she wanted. Laughing softly, Jaime complied with her wishes.

Neither of them heard Taena Merryweather's sharp gasp as she caught sight of their embrace, and so did not stop her as she quietly exited the library, triumphant that she had a juicy bit of gossip to share with the entire school.

***  
The next few weeks were odd for Jaime. 

Lessons and homework could not hold his attention, though to be fair, they never did before. Patrols around the castle, busting snogging fifth years and deducting points…all of it felt like boring routine. Even Quidditch practice, the only thing he had really cared for once upon a time, did nothing to pique his interest.

His whole world had narrowed down to thoughts of Sansa, and when he could see her again. There was a growing need to know that she was safe and unscathed. His sister had barely spoken to him since that night in the infirmary, and had made no further advances upon the girl since, but he wasn’t naive enough to trust that Cersei had given up on her little vendetta. The longer it took for the other shoe to drop however, the worse his anxiety.

It was perhaps foolishness on his part. They were, each and every one of the students, under the watchful eye of one of the most powerful wizards in the history of the Wizarding world. Their teachers, without exception, were all capable of protecting their charges.

_So where were they, the night Hardying almost raped Sansa?_

Jaime tried not to consider what could have happened, if he had not decided to do one last sweep of the town that night. Would Sansa have been assaulted and left unconscious in the cold and dark? Had the plan been to leave her for dead?

 _He should have killed the boy_ , he thought with a certain level of homicidal fury, each time he recalled how Hardying had put his hands all over Sansa's helpless body and how the bastard had so callously caused her to bleed. The ferocity of his murderous instincts as it related to the girl's safety frightened him, but only because he had a feeling he would not stay his hand the next time someone laid a finger on her. If ever there was a next time that is, which he prayed there never would be, both for her sake and for his own

There were times he wished that Sansa had just let him be during that Quidditch match. The girl's good intentions had been rewarded with nothing but Cersei’s vitriol, jealousy and violence. 

There was another part of him however, that whispered it wasn’t only her safety he cared so much about, even though her wellbeing was in fact, absolutely becoming everything to him. 

It was the part of him that wanted to taste her, wanted to thread his fingers through her hair, wanted to peel away the layers of her robes, and claim her sweetness for himself…

“How did I not _see_ you before?” she asked him once, a dreamy quality in her eyes as he drew his attention from the smooth of her neck. 

“I must have told you this by now, but your taste in men…it’s not very good.” he had chuckled, pressing his forehead against hers as he squeezed her hand in undisguised affection. 

_Was this what it was like to be a normal teenage boy?_

With Cersei, there had never been any doubt that he wanted and loved her, not when they had been so intimately tied from the moment of conception. They were a part of each other, and perhaps, they always would be, no matter if he never touched her again. 

But this thing with Sansa - this was different. This was different and strangely enough, it felt right in a way he’d never expected. 

There was an obvious added plus to his distracted state - thinking of those fleeting moments was far more preferable than listening to Professor Binn’s endless droning.

***

“Hey, Lannister, what you did for Robb’s sister was really something.” Sirius Black remarked as they left the potions classroom. The other boy was completely oblivious to the look of rage Cersei was casting him. “It was very Gryffindor of you, honestly. Just wanted you to know that, before we all graduate and never see each other again.”

 _Him? Like a lion? Were the Gryffindors so arrogant they thought it a compliment to be compared to one of theirs?_

Jaime stared dispassionately at his classmate, recalling suddenly as he did so, Sansa’s old and ridiculous crush on Black. Inexplicably, he found himself wanting to hex Sirius into oblivion.

“I should hope not. All that red and gold. Much too gauche for my tastes,” Jaime responded flatly, and stalked away. He was aware of course, that it wasn’t Sirius’ fault Sansa had been so obsessed with him once upon a time. Everyone knew exactly who warmed _his_ bed.

As he stepped turned a corner, a familiar hand reached out and touched his elbow. There was no need for him to look, to know exactly who it was.

“Can we talk?” Cersei asked, her voice surprisingly even. Almost as an afterthought, she added, “Please?”

Tilting his gaze, Jaime took in his twin sister, noting to his satisfaction that she looked about as sleep deprived as he was. 

“I know its been hard, with Mother…with Mother gone. I know I haven’t been behaving quite as well as I should’ve been.” she whispered. 

“Are you absolutely sure this is where we should be having this discussion?” he looked at her questioningly. “The things you’ve tried to do recently - that’s guaranteed to put you in Azkaban. Spending a year or three with dementors won’t do much for your complexion.”

Her eyes flashed angrily at him, but he watched as she made an obvious effort to tamp her fury into something manageable.

“I don’t want to lose you.” she stepped in close, running her elegant hands over his chest. “Please Jaime…we belong together. You know its true. We’ve always belonged together.”

Jaime could feel the shape of her body through her green robes, could feel his own body responding as she moulded her thighs against his. Already, he could see himself pulling her robes away as he shoved her up against the wall. It had been so long since he’d last sheathed himself inside her warmth, but the fact was - a part of him missed her. 

Though, as he looked into her eyes, all he could think of was Sansa’s trusting gaze. It was enough to make him hesitate, enough so that he remained unmoved under his sister’s ministrations. 

“Jaime please,” she whispered. “I need you.”

The prefect’s eyes narrowed. The truth was, Jaime had never cared to keep their relationship a secret. As far as he had been concerned, he could give a shit if the whole world knew of what he shared with Cersei. The magical community loved their purebloods, and it wasn’t as if incest was uncommon throughout history. Moreover, if it kept the other boys away, even better. He was tired of warning off his teenaged peers from sniffing after his sister as if she were a particularly tasty morsel.

Cersei’s sudden desire to drape herself all over him in plain view was utterly unlike her. She had never wanted anyone to know of what passed between the two of them, not in the five years since they had begun exploring each other’s bodies.

“What are you…” Jaime began. That was when he felt the jab of a wand against his ribs, and understood. 

Horror washed over him, as he watched her lips form a single spell.

_“Imperio.”_

***

“Not even one tiny detail?” Jeyne whined at Sansa’s elbow as they hurried between classes. 

“About what?” Sansa asked crossly as she rummaged through her bag. “Jeyne, did you take my Arithmancy homework by mistake? I swear, it was just here…”

“Maybe you left it down by the lake,” her friend giggled. “While Jaime was tutoring you.”

“Ergh.” Sansa threw her hands in the air. 

“Everyone knows who your new boyfriend is Sansa…Taena’s been telling everyone.” Jeyne prattled happily. “She says you two have been going at it everywhere.”

Sansa felt a wee bit queasy, but reminded herself not to be stupid. Everyone had been buzzing for a while now about the state of the Stark girl’s love life. Being the only daughter of an old and prestigious family had its drawbacks, Sansa was beginning to find. Given how often she found herself slipping away with Jaime, a scion of yet another family with _lineage_ , it had only been a matter of time before their little ‘dates’ became common knowledge. 

His sister had not approached her since, or tried anything untoward aside from casting her a few dark glares. Perhaps the whole thing had blown over, and they could all move on with their lives - at least, that was her hope.

“He is your boyfriend isn’t he?” Jeyne peered over at her curiously. “You two had the talk?”

Forcing her voice to remain neutral, Sansa replied, “He’s about to leave Hogwarts. I think you’re making too much of a few silly rumours.”

Sansa didn’t want, or need to have her heart broken by the time summer rolled around, she told herself. Which was why she hadn’t even brought up the subject with him, choosing instead, to just let things happen as they would. 

There had been moments when he would look at her, and she could just tell that he wanted to say things they’d both probably regret in the light of day. Her only course of action during those times was simply to plant one on him, distracting him long enough until the moment passed. It made her heart ache in a strange way that she wasn’t accustomed to, and she didn’t quite like it.

At the same time however, it was getting harder and harder not to drown in the depths of his emerald eyes. Down by the frozen lake at night, when it was just the two of them wrapped under a heating charm beneath a hidden ledge, the girl was beginning to discover just how much her body very simply _wanted_.

“That Wildsmith boy,” he had whispered a few nights ago as his hands roamed the edges of her sweater, drifting further and further upwards and under. “I don't like how he finds it necessary to touch you at every turn.”

“Rory?” She laughed. “He's a nice boy. We’re thinking of taking a lot of the same classes next term…”

Jaime pressed his lips hard against her mouth, making her forget momentarily what it was they'd been speaking of in the first place. It was clear he hadn't forgotten, however, when he picked up the thread minutes later.

“Just because I'm graduating, doesn't mean I don’t want…” he started.

“Please, let’s not.” She had begged quietly. Already, the thought of coming back to a castle without him in it felt…wrong. Jaime gave her one of his trademarked smirks in response, as if he knew something she didn't, and Merlin, if that hadn't melted her insides. 

In the hallways outside her Arithmancy classroom, the Ravenclaw Seeker gave up on her search for her homework in her bag. An _accio_ proved pointless when no parchments came flying towards her from wherever they had disappeared to. Finally, Sansa declared, shaking her head in exasperation, “I’m going back to the common room.” 

Hurrying away from the crowd, Sansa made her way through hallways emptied of students and climbed several lonely stairwells, before she made it to the Ravenclaw wing. 

As she made to step through into the common room, the Seeker had no time to scream at the sight of the two strange men waiting within, before a silencing curse struck her full in the chest, followed by a painful hex which rendered her unconscious. 

The larger of the two slung her limp body over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing more than a child. With a pop, the two figures disappeared.

The anti-apparition wards which Hogwarts boasted of - they all remained utterly silent on the matter.


	5. Nox (Part III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No good deed goes unpunished.

When next she awoke, Sansa found to her alarm that she was sprawled in a small clearing, in the middle of a very dark forest. Overhead, the moon was shining bright and full. 

What truly made it worse however, was the fact that the Seeker wasn’t exactly alone. Not at all. 

Cersei and Jaime were seated across from her, and from the looks of it, cuddling quite cozily against each other. The two men she found in the Ravenclaw common room hovered close by, looking greedily in her direction.

Swallowing, she tried to shift to her feet, feeling for her wand as she did so.

“Looking for this?” One of the brutes asked, holding out her wand. He didn't look like he was the sort who smiled - ever. Even if he did however, Sansa had the distinct suspicion she wouldn't like him better.

With a quick snap, he tossed two halves of shattered Chestnut at her feet. 

The other man, he grinned a feral, nasty grin. Raising his wand, Sansa knew exactly what was coming next, judging by the vicious gleam she could see in Cersei’s eyes. 

_“Crucio.”_

***

There was a dream-like quality to the rest of his day, Jaime found. Each time his sister said something, asked him something, he knew that if he only fulfilled what she wanted, he would know absolute peace in very core of his being.

At least, on one level, he knew it. 

There was a niggling thought that itched at the back of his mind, a muffled screaming that would not let him alone. It felt as if someone or something was trying to wake him from an endless dream.

“This is how it should be,” his sister whispered as he moved inside of her. Automatically, he hummed in agreement with her; there was nothing better in the world, he thought, than making love to Cersei. There _could_ be nothing better.

So what if he kept on seeing flashes of brilliant blue eyes in his mind’s eye? 

“Tell me you love me,” she stated. “Tell me you’re mine and no one else’s.”

“I love you. I could belong to no one else.” he replied, burying his face in the crook of her neck. 

_You fucking nitwit. She’s made a slave of you._

Jaime looked away for a moment, trying to focus his thoughts, but his sister didn’t seem to notice, lost in the throes of passion as it were. 

The twins were in the Room of Requirement, and it was furnished exactly as she liked it. Velvets and silks covered almost every surface, while a roaring fire burned in the wide hearth. Large windows opened to the sight of a rocky beach, where gulls cried overhead and waves crashed unceasingly against the shoreline.

The sun was setting on the horizon, and there was something important he needed to pay attention to, if only he could remember what it was.

With a cry, Cersei came against him. Carefully, he shifted his body off her smaller frame, his own desire still unquenched. Stretching languorously, his sister dropped a kiss on his cheek.

“Get dressed.” she climbed gracefully off the four-poster bed and drew her green robes around herself. “It’s time I showed you the shape of things to come.”

Obediently, he pulled on his trousers and buttoned his shirt, before donning his own prefect’s robes. His wand thumped against his body; it was tucked somewhere within the folds of his clothing.

 _Say nothing._ the familiar voice begged. It was his own voice, he realized. How very odd.

Quietly, he followed his sister as they stole out of the castle grounds. Everyone was sitting down to supper in the dining hall, and the full moon was only just rising outside. 

They walked, it seemed, for a long time, past the Black Lake and into the Forbidden Forest.

“Where are we going?” he asked, fighting through a thick fog in his mind to get the words out. Fear was beginning to seep into his awareness now. 

If his twin thought it odd that he was able to question her, she did not show it. Instead, she smiled in such a way that made him want to void the contents of his stomach. 

“This way.” she steered them unerringly. Outside of his own volition, his steps mimicked hers. Eventually, he found himself in the middle of a clearing where a small fire had been lit. The sight that greeted him caused his heart to sink, as reality filtered into his consciousness through a thick haze.

Sansa lay on the ground, her face obscured by her hair. Osfryd and Osney Kettleblack - brothers who had been expelled when he himself had only just started at Hogwarts - stood guard over her unmoving form. 

Rage began to kindle deep in his belly when he realized that they had stripped the girl of her blue robes, and left her only in her thin uniform. Sansa’s skirt had been pushed far past her knees, leaving her body splayed and exposed. 

_They will die painful, screaming deaths; he would see to it himself_ , the voice inside him promised coldly.

“Sit with me.” Cersei commanded, tugging him down with her. Numbly, he did as he was told. Shifting her glance to Osney, Cersei smiled sweetly as she said, “It’s time we woke our guest up.”

Nodding, the man turned his attention towards the unconscious Seeker and cast, “ _Ennervate._ ”

Jaime watched in dread as Sansa slowly came back to the world; he flinched inwardly as her eyes found his. As she began to climb unsteadily to her feet, and as Osney tossed her the remnants of her broken wand, the dismay and fear he found in her blue depths were unmistakable.

In his mind, he fought desperately against the spell Cersei had woven, slamming his will repeatedly and painfully into a thick, strong wall. Still, he knew the cracks were already there. He just needed try a little harder, work a little more…

Osfryd smiled a terrible smile as he pointed his wand at Sansa. With far too much glee, he murmured, “ _Crucio._ ”

 _No!_ he screamed silently as Sansa began to writhe on the ground, wailing in unadulterated agony. Her back arched sharply against the dirty snow as her fingers clawed desperately against the frozen ground.

When his right hand twitched towards his pocket and gripped tightly at the Rowan wand within, Jaime knew he had only just won his own internal battle…even if it were a little late. 

_Hold - wait for an opening. You won’t do anyone any good if you’re dead or injured._

Forcing himself to stay calm, he watched as they ended the spell, leaving Sansa a drooling wreck on the ground.

“You do realize of course, this isn’t just because of Jaime…” Cersei laughed. “You Starks are nothing but blood traitors. Your Father, campaigning for better Muggle relations, when really, your family should be joining our fight. The Starks would rather muddy yourselves with filth, and drag the rest of us with you.”

“Please, I’m not a part of this. I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t…” Sansa pleaded in a way that broke Jaime’s heart, as the girl tried to hoist her body up to a sitting position.

Cersei nodded sharply once again at Osfryd. This time, he hissed out a different spell, one every fourth year student knew.

“ _Diffindo._ ”

Sansa cried out as a shallow cut appeared on her cheek. Osfryd repeated the spell a few times in rapid succession. Blood began to soak through the Seeker’s white shirt, and gashes materialized on her bare thighs. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m having a lot of _fun_.” Cersei observed with cold amusement. “Personally, I can’t wait for Albus Dumbledore to find your corpse strung up at the entrance of Hogwarts. The only Stark daughter, murdered under his very nose…can you imagine how that would look?”

His sister turned to him at last. “Jaime, be creative won’t you? Make the whore scream. Leave something for the boys though. They’ve been so looking forward to their little treat.”

It was the opening he needed, and it hadn’t come a minute too soon. The look of terror on Sansa’s face had stoked his anger past its breaking point, and Jaime was unable to bear a moment more of this living nightmare. Unfolding his body, he drew his wand and ground out, “ _Confringo._ ”

At the periphery of his vision, he could see Cersei’s eyes widening as she caught on to his true intentions. 

A bright tongue of orange flame leaped out at the Kettleblacks. The moment the light made contact with the men - both of whom had not expected the onslaught - there was a loud explosion followed by piercing screams as their bodies literally burst in flames. Howling, the two ran blindly into the woods, leaving Jaime with a furious Cersei and a stunned Sansa.

Before he could act further, his twin raised her wand and screamed, _“Diffindo!_ ”

At first, Jaime didn’t understand what just transpired. That is, until the pain started. Looking down the length of his right arm, he saw to his horror that his casting hand was no longer attached to his person. Distantly, he heard a man’s ragged scream renting the frozen air. It took him a moment to realize that the sound was coming from him.

“You fucking idiot.” Cersei growled. “ _Impe…_ ”

Jaime looked up through blurry eyes, and watched as Sansa tackled the older girl to the ground. A short struggle ensued, as the injured and bleeding Seeker desperately grabbed for his twin’s wand. With one well placed knee to the groin, Sansa had Cersei shrieking in pain, and an unbroken wand clasped in her casting hand. 

“ _Petrificus Totalus,_ ” Sansa managed to gasp. Immediately, Cersei ceased her struggles, though her green eyes darted furiously from side to side. Not wasting a moment, Sansa staggered to Jaime’s side.

“Stay here,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll go find help.”

“You’re hurt,” he stuttered; the Seeker was still bleeding copiously from her many wounds. “And that spell is going to wear off her. Sansa, I can’t hold her off…”

Without any warning, something large exploded into the clearing and howled. Sansa whipped around. Forcing himself to ignore the excruciating pain, Jaime reached out with his left hand and pried his own wand from the lifeless appendage on the ground, ignoring the macabre picture he must have made.

The creature growled and slavered, falling to all fours as it sniffed the air. 

“ _Stupe…_ ” Sansa began to say, lifting Cersei’s wand, but it was far too late. The monstrous thing fell on her in a flurry of claws and teeth, and bit hard at her torn shoulder. Falling to her knees, the girl cried out in anguish.

“Remus no!” someone shouted. 

_Remus? Remus Lupin?_ Jaime wondered through a haze of agony. 

A stag crashed through the undergrowth and threw the monstrous thing into the air with its massive antlers. Landing heavily on the ground, the lupine creature whined loudly as claws scrabbled to find purchase. Yellow eyes glared maliciously at the stag, before turning and loping off into the woods. 

Crouching protectively over Sansa, Jaime forced himself to focus his energy on lifting his wand, despite knowing that the two of them were outmatched. 

Blinking, he found himself staring at a stricken Sirius Black.

The air shimmered and the stag changed, resolving into the familiar shape of James Potter; the boy looked between the still immobilized Cersei and the injured couple on the ground. 

“Sirius, run. Get Dumbledore now.” James ordered. Quickly, he cast a spell to bind the Slytherin girl in sturdy ropes, before hurrying to crouch over a rapidly declining Jaime. When Sirius didn’t seem inclined to move from his spot and instead, continued to stare in horror at the bloody tableau, James barked, “Sirius. _Now. _”__

__Then and only then, the other boy transformed into a large black dog and dashed away in the direction of Hogwarts._ _

__“His hand.” Sansa gasped from the effort of speaking. “She cut off his hand.”_ _

__“I don’t know enough healing magic that could fix that, but I could stop the bleeding.” James said grimly. With a series of complicated gestures, the flow of blood was staunched at Jaime’s wrist. Satisfied, he repeated the process with Sansa. All the wounds that had been inflicted upon her body were healed immediately…except for the bite on her shoulder._ _

__“You keep going around doing heroic things, people are going to think you’re a Gryffindor.” James said tiredly as he wiped at his forehead._ _

__“Potter, you must have lost your mind to even think that matters now.” Jaime spat. “Why the fuck was Lupin allowed to roam unchecked during a full moon? That’s who it was wasn’t it?”_ _

__For a second, James looked panicked, but then his chin jutted out determinedly. “He got out of the Shrieking Shack. We were trying to get to him before any real harm was done.”_ _

__“Bang up job.” Jaime said sarcastically, wrapping his good arm protectively around Sansa. “Behold your success. Is Dumbledore aware one of his students is a bloody werewolf?”_ _

__For the second time that night, Jaime felt a killing rage rise within him, as he beheld the look of defiance mixed with guilt on James Potter’s face._ _

__“Yes. Of course he knows.” the Gryffindor said at last. The Slytherin prefect turned away in disgust._ _

__Beside him, Sansa paled rapidly. “Oh Merlin. Remus bit me. Does this mean…”_ _

__He didn’t have the heart to speak aloud, the truth of the matter. Instead, Jaime buried his nose into Sansa’s thick hair, assuring himself with the knowledge that she still lived. By the fire, Cersei began to laugh as the first spell wore off her._ _

__“The cripple and his wolf bitch.” she sneered. “What a pair you make.”_ _

__“Sweet sister,” Jaime said in a voice he didn’t quite recognize as his own, swinging his furious gaze to meet his twin’s. “I beg you to think carefully upon your next words; they may be the last you ever say to me.”_ _

__“I don’t believe you.” she scoffed._ _

__“You saw fit to make me your mindless fuck puppet, your obedient little slave. Your own brother…” Jaime stood up and stalked towards her bound form, ignoring a worried looking James. “You maimed me, sister, and brought catastrophe down upon our heads. Believe me, you have singlehandedly destroyed everything we have ever shared.”_ _

__“You will never stop loving me. You and I, we’re the same. We’re different halves of a whole.” she said, her voice never wavering. “Jaime, I lo…”_ _

“ _Stupefy_ ” he said. As he suspected, casting with his left hand was a gamble - the spell hit much harder than he expected, and knocked Cersei a few feet backwards. Her body slammed against the trunk of a tree, before she slid to the ground like lifeless a rag doll. 

__Jaime could not find it within himself to care if he had inadvertently hurt her._ _

__There was a sharp crack in the air; it was the sound of someone else materializing in the forest._ _

__The newly arrived Albus Dumbledore solemnly surveyed the scene, before his eyes finally landed on Cersei’s still form._ _

__“Headmaster, I assure you. Everything is exactly as it looks like.” Jaime drawled, ignoring the gnawing emptiness that was growing inside of him._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this chapter didn't ruin the story for anyone...


	6. Nox (Part IV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Starks state their opinion; Jaime and Sansa respectfully disagree.

Madam Pomfrey tsked and fussed as she always did when faced with an injured student, but it was the first time the lines around her eyes were so obvious. The way she looked at Sansa and himself - it was a gaze filled with pity and grief.

Jaime Lannister was not accustomed to pity. He was the son of Tywin Lannister, a scion of an old family that ran a mining empire in both the Muggle and Wizarding world. His mother Joanna had been the sole heiress to a massive fortune left behind by a banking mogul; a fortune of which he himself now possessed a third of.

There was almost nothing in the world he wanted that he could not buy. _Almost._

“By the next full moon, the changes will become apparent.” Dumbledore said very gently as Sansa stared blankly ahead, refusing to acknowledge the headmaster. The Ravenclaw Seeker was still dressed in her bloodstained clothing. “However, it will take a few moonrises for your condition to fully manifest.”

There were time turners, Jaime supposed as he stared out the window beside Sansa’s bed. Theoretically, he could try to turn the clock backwards, to save the both of them from the horrors of the past few hours. But there was nothing in the world which could have compelled him to return. Never again did he want to relive the way his beloved sister had found use for him; never again did he want to listen to the sounds of Sansa’s tortured cries.

Money could not buy back what innocence Sansa and he had both lost in a span of mere hours.

“What about Jaime?” The girl asked after a beat, turning her piercing gaze towards him. He couldn’t help but notice that she still clutched at Cersei’s Yew wand. The sight made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. “His hand…”

“Ah.” The old man looked away. With a small twitch of his elegant fingers, he dismissed the school matron. Madam Pomfrey hesitated, before acquiescing. “That’s a delicate matter. There are spells we could research…”

“After what we've been through, the least you could do is to stop treating us like children.” Jaime said coldly, in the tones of a man not used to being disobeyed. He sounded like his father, he considered with a modicum of surprise.

Albus Dumbledore peered carefully at him. “We can try, but the fact is, it is unlikely we can reverse the damage. While Mr. Potter doubtlessly saved you from bleeding to death, the spells he cast…they have permanently impeded any methods available to us that could have healed you.”

“So you can't help him.” Sansa asked flatly. “The way you couldn't help me.”

“It's not quite as simple as…”

“I thought there were anti-apparition wards in place throughout the castle grounds.” She pressed on. “How did those men get in? For that matter, how did they snatch me the way they did?”

The headmaster took off his half-moon glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Miss Stark, I regret to say that of late, my attention has been diverted by other pressing priorities that requires my involvement. As a result, I unwittingly allowed certain individuals to compromise the safety of my charges.”

Jaime laughed derisively. “A werewolf _student_ wandering on school property, and grown men abducting young girls at whim. Tell me headmaster, what good are you?”

There was a flurry of voices out in the hallway, which materialized in who else but the Starks - all of them.

“Mom?” she said in a small voice. “Dad?”

For the first time since the whole sorry affair started, Jaime watched as Sansa began to cry. Instinctively, he abandoned his post by the window with the sole intention of reaching out to comfort the Seeker, only to feel a heavy hand on his shoulder. The headmaster shook his head slightly in response to his questioning glance.

“Oh Sansa,” Catelyn Stark said brokenly, gathering her daughter into her arms. From the other side, her father Ned reached his arms around the women, while Robb and Jon hovered anxiously beside the bed. “My darling, I’m so sorry.”

In all his life, Jaime could not remember his own father embracing him or his siblings the way Ned Stark embraced his daughter and his wife. Feeling as if he were intruding, he retreated back to his former position.

“Mr. Lannister, your sister…” Dumbledore hesitated. “From what I gather, she was the mastermind of the chaos which transpired here today.”

“And here I thought you’d become too addled in your old age to spot the obvious.” Jaime said bitterly. While the pain was largely gone from his person, already, he could feel the absence of his casting hand…among other losses. 

“If I am not wrong in my surmise, Cersei cast at least one Unforgivable spell tonight.” the headmaster pressed on as if Jaime hadn’t spoken. “You do know what the sentence for that is.”

Everyone knew. His sister would face imprisonment for life in Azkaban, until the day she truly died for her use of an unforgivable - and it was no better than she deserved, for what she had brought down on all of them.

“Has my father been informed?” Jaime asked instead. 

“I believe he’s already down at the Ministry of Magic, pleading her case.”

_And what case might that be, Father? How much gold will you pour to wash her hands clean? To protect the family name?_

“Cersei found a couple of older boys to…hurt Sansa. That is all I can attest to.” Jaime said at last, hating himself more with every word. In spite of what she had done, he could not bring himself to consider his twin rotting away forever as Dementors fed on every last crumb of hope in her soul. 

“Ah yes, there is the question of her accomplices and their whereabouts,” Dumbledore hesitated. 

Jaime weighed his next words carefully. “What of it? They took Sansa. I did what I had to do to protect the both of us. You understand, don’t you Albus? You strike me as a practical man yourself, who picks his _priorities_ as he sees fit. Tell me I’m wrong, why don’t you?”

The headmaster scrutinized the eldest Lannister son with something like dislike. “I suppose I cannot dispute that. The things I have done Jaime…the things I _will_ do to save us all. You have no idea.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I do very much have an idea.” Jaime said harshly. “The rest of us can go hang if it means you get to win your war against Riddle.”

Pale blue eyes regarded him in sullen anger. Suddenly exhausted, Jaime was the first to glance away, only to catch the end of a sentence he did not much like the sound of.

“…registry of Magical Creatures. They’ll get the paperwork done and we can…” 

Sansa had stopped crying. Instead, she was beginning to look panicked and frightened all over again as she listened to her father’s words. Her fear should have been obvious to her parents, judging from the way she was hugging her arms around herself. 

“You can’t be serious.” he declared, striding to stand beside her. “You cannot honestly want to register your only daughter as a controlled _creature_ with the Ministry.”

The shock her parents felt at being addressed as such by a student of Hogwarts could not have been more apparent, judging from their gaping mouths. It was Ned who collected himself quickly.

“It’s the right thing to do. It’s the _law_.” her father said firmly.

“Have you gone quite mad? She’ll be stripped of all her rights as a witch. As a person even.” Jaime countered through gritted teeth. 

“He’s right. It would ruin my life.” Sansa shook her head vehemently. “I will never be accepted. Not here, not anywhere.”

“Sansa, darling, you have to listen to us. The Ministry will deal fairly with you as they deal with all creatures who have been registered with them…” Catelyn spoke in soothing tones as if she were trying to convince a child.

“Indeed, they will deal with her the same way they deal with all werewolves.” Jaime said sharply. “They will send her a galleon or two every Christmas, same as they send every wolf that remains unemployed and homeless - which is practically all of them. And that would be that.”

“Lannister, this doesn’t concern you. Besides, I don’t expect you to understand what it means to do the right thing.” Robb said challengingly as he met Jaime’s angry gaze.

“It’s because of your sister Sansa’s in this mess.” Jon stated, shoulder to shoulder with his older brother. Jaime flushed in response, half in anger, half in shame. He supposed he should have expected the Starks to know by now, the facts of the matter. 

“He lost his _hand_ protecting me.” Sansa said with obvious irritation. “Which is much more than can be said for either of you. And it was _Remus Lupin_ who bit me - I believe Professor Dumbledore here has always been aware of his condition.”

“Come on Sansa, be fair.” Robb protested, doing his best to appear unaffected by the truths his sister had so inconveniently highlighted. “You’ve kept us out of everything that’s been going on. If you’d only told us…”

“Why would I tell you anything, when none of you have ever listened to a word I’ve had to say? When have you ever treated me as anything other than as stupid little girl?” she demanded angrily.

“This isn’t the time to be childish. Sansa, please see some sense, I beg of you.” Ned interrupted. “The Headmaster’s acceptance of Lupin here in Hogwarts should re-assure you, if anything.”

“This is my _life_ you’re asking me to throw away.” There was a bitter note in Sansa’s voice as she tossed aside her sheets and moved to stand beside Jaime. “Please don’t make me. If you love me, if you truly care for me, you won’t ask this of me.”

Her parents looked helplessly at each other, before her mother stepped forwards beseechingly. Catelyn wrung her hands as she started, “Sweetheart, I know it seems frightening now but…”

The headmaster cleared his throat loudly and pointedly, causing everyone to fall silent. 

“Perhaps its time we left Jaime and Sansa to retire for the night. The _both_ of them have been through a lot today. The least we can do is allow them some respite before they face the challenges of tomorrow, of which there will be many.”

“ _Both_ Jaime and Sansa were under your care Albus.” Catelyn said harshly, rounding on the Headmaster. “The children should never have been endangered the way they were. We left them in your care - and now, my daughter is a werewolf, and the boy has been maimed.”

Clasping at the woman’s shoulder, Ned nevertheless looked to be in agreement with his wife. Sighing, Catelyn reached over and kissed Sansa on her forehead. In return, the Ravenclaw seeker wrapped her arms tightly around her mother, before releasing her hold almost reluctantly.

“No matter what your sister has done, I know you tried to save my daughter.” Catelyn said, turning to a surprised Jaime. 

Perhaps they weren't aware of _all_ the facts, he thought with strange relief. 

Gently, the woman reached up and pulled him into a quick hug; the gesture brought to mind his own mother, and how very much he missed her. “Thank you.”

“If you need to speak with your parents, remember we always keep a supply of Floo Powder by every hearth in every common room.” Dumbledore said, casting the couple one final, meaningful look as he ushered the reluctant Starks out of the Infirmary. Jaime did not miss the old man’s intent.

“Lupin’s part in all this, and why you chose to keep his condition a secret from the rest of us - you will explain yourself.” Ned could be heard saying as their steps faded away down the corridor. Even exhausted, the anger in his voice which he had hidden in the presence of his daughter was unmistakable. 

Once they were truly alone, Sansa said, very flatly, “I know my family. They’ll drag me to the steps of the Ministry no matter what I have to say. In fact, they’ll probably register me whether or not I’m with them.”

“I won’t let them ruin your life.” Jaime stated. The both of them had suffered enough in one day to last a lifetime. Reaching over with his good hand, he held on tightly to her. “Do you trust me?”

The answering squeeze she gave him was all he needed. Already, plans were taking shape in his thoughts, all moulded by one single motivation.

_He would not fail her; never again._

***

Alone in the dark hallways, the two of them moved quietly towards the Ravenclaw dormitory. 

“Don’t you need to gather your things?” Sansa whispered.

“The only thing I’m taking with us is my brother. I will not leave him here in the care of Albus Dumbledore, and I will not have him return to the tender embrace of my father and his new cronies.” Jaime replied. 

Stepping into the common room, Sansa pointed him towards the boy’s sleeping quarters, as she herself hurried to the room she shared with Jeyne. It was close to dawn, and she had doubted that anyone would be awake. Moving as swiftly and silently as possible, Sansa changed out of her bloody clothing. Grabbing her satchel, she stuffed within it, some personal artifacts. 

“Where are you going?” Jeyne asked from behind her.

Stiffening, Sansa slowly turned to face her roommate. The other girl gazed back at her through tear filled eyes; her casting hand never wavered as she pointed her wand directly at the Seeker’s heart.

“How long?” Sansa questioned. “How long has your will not been your own?”

“I don’t even know anymore.” Jeyne cried softly. “She had me make sure you’d return here yesterday, and told me what I must do if you were to come back today. I tried to resist her Sansa, truly, I did…”

“You can fight this.” Sansa stepped closer; the truth in Jeyne’s words was obvious. It was clear that the girl was still trying to fight the Imperius curse…trying and failing. “You’re stronger than you think.”

“I can’t…I have to do this. You don’t understand, you’ve never been cursed like this.” 

“Let me help you. Please…”

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Jeyne was unable keep the sob from her voice. Sansa shut her eyes, trying to picture being anywhere else at all. “ _Avada Ked…_ ”

“ _Stupefy!_ ” someone whispered fiercely.

There was a loud thump. The Seeker’s eyes snapped open. Sansa found herself looking at the Lannister brothers, who in turn, were staring at an unconscious Jeyne in burgeoning horror. Tyrion’s wand was still held at the ready. 

“Is she…” Sansa breathed. 

“Someone will find her. They’ll fix her.” Jaime stated. “We have to go, _now_. My sister could have spelled others.”

Grabbing her small bundle of belongings, Sansa hurried back to the common room with the other two. Without wasting a second, Jaime grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the burning hearth, turning the flames green. With his hands holding on tightly to both Sansa and Tyrion, he stepped into the fireplace.

 

***

Muggle London was beautiful, Sansa thought as she gazed out the windows of the hotel suite.

A long time ago, when she was much younger, her parents had brought herself and her brothers out to a Muggle production on the West End - a stage show about a beautiful opera singer who had been abducted by a besotted monster that dwelled in the dark. It seemed so romantic then, the notion of a man who had to own a woman at any cost. 

The idea seemed so ghastly now.

Close by, Jaime stared wordlessly into space, gazing at tableaus she couldn’t herself glimpse. His brother was asleep in a separate bedroom, in an entirely different _wing_ , within their lavishly appointed suites. 

Truthfully, it was no secret how much wealth the Lannisters possessed, but to know it and to truly see it were very different things. Who knew hotel suites could possess individual wings, for starters?

“My mother, she left me money after her passing. I am of age, and no one can keep it from me,” he told her as they ascended the steps of Gringotts as dawn broke overhead. His dark robes concealed the blood she knew was soaked into the fabric. “But they can still track us if we’re not careful - we need to be quick about this.”

Together with Tyrion, she waited out in the empty bank vestibule as Jaime spent the better part of an hour doing something rather complicated with a very harried looking goblin. 

“Sorry about my sister.” the younger Lannister brother told her with a grimace. “I can’t say I’m surprised. I’m just glad Jaime’s taking me with you. I hate to think what it would be like, being the only one left with my father...I've never been his favorite, so to speak.”

Unable to think of a suitable response, Sansa had shrugged, choosing to stare blankly at the opposite wall. When Jaime’s business was finally concluded, he looked grimly satisfied as he ushered them out of the establishment.

“It's done then?” His little brother asked shrewdly. “All converted, transferred and managed as we speak?”

Nodding, Jaime added, “I’ve paid the goblins enough, they will stay silent for at least a hundred years. They also gave me a name…”

Had Sansa the energy, she might've been astonished at the worldly knowledge the brothers seemed to possess. As it was, she numbly allowed herself to be steered towards Knockturn Alley, where they found a wild haired young man who didn’t look altogether sane.

“What you’re asking is possible, but it is very illegal. I could lose my operating license. I’m trying to become respectable here,” the man had argued, gesturing frantically. Without batting an eye, Jaime slid an uncounted bag of galleons over the dusty counter that separated them. 

The merchant sighed and lifted his wand, chanting a few quick cantrips. There was a spark in the air, and then nothing.

“That’s it then?” Tyrion piped up. “Shouldn’t I get the same treatment, if we’re really doing this?”

“I still don’t understand…” Sansa began with a small frown.

“I’ve lifted the Trace off you luv,” the man said almost kindly. “You’re an underage witch. I assume you’re here because you’re running from something. You can’t very well run and do magic at the same time, if the first _accio_ you cast ends up leading your pursuers right to you.”

“Five hundred more galleons for my brother.” Jaime said calmly. “And when that’s done, we have more business to discuss.”

That had been hours ago. With their most pressing needs taken care of, the three of them traipsed into Muggle London, allowing Jaime to check them into a hotel. If anyone had anything to say about their disheveled appearance, the wad of British pound notes Jaime shoved across the counter dissuaded questions. In all her life, Sansa had never considered what life would be like with a bottomless supply of money. 

In one day however, all her lessons were being learned, for better or for worse.

Bathed and rested, Sansa suddenly found herself at a loss for what to do next as she drifted between lushly furnished rooms in a fluffy white bathrobe. Eventually, she found herself staring out the window, down at the thousands of people - muggles and wizards alike - traipsing the streets far below.

“What are you thinking?” Jaime asked softly, moving close behind her. 

“I’m thinking that if the people who ran this place knew what I was, they’d throw me out in the gutter.” her fingers unconsciously went towards the bite wound on her shoulder. The marks were finally beginning to scab over.

“The people here don’t believe in magic.” he said bluntly. “To them, we’re nothing but stories. And even if they suspected anything, believe me when I tell you, money paves the way.”

“Is that what I’m reduced to?” Sansa asked sharply. “Am I at the mercy of your good graces?”

Without warning, he pulled sharply at her elbow with his good hand, forcing her to look at him. “Now is not the time for you to become mired in self pity.”

He released her and ran his hand through his damp and tousled hair. “It’s my fault what happened to you. If I had paid more attention to what she was doing, if I had only thought to…”

“God listen to us.” Sansa shook her head, reaching up to touch his cheek. “We’ll do each other no good if we go on this way.”

“I’ve ruined your life.” he said raggedly. He made to touch her with his right hand, but she could see him regretting the action immediately, the moment he remembered that he no longer had a right hand to use. Impulsively, she reached for his right forearm anyway.

The skin around his stump was still an angry red, but the injury had clearly healed; James Potter’s healing spells had been expertly done, nevermind that they had been ultimately ruinous. 

“I’m smart. I’ll think of a way to help you, I promise.” she said softly.

Jaime tilted her chin up, and brought his lips crashing down on hers. There was a certain desperation in his touch, an undisguised need for comfort. Without hesitation, Sansa allowed him to pull her close, allowed his hands to untie the sash of her bathrobe. With shaking hands, she fumbled at the buttons of the clean shirt he now donned and pushed the thin cotton off his shoulders. Very carefully, she stroked the bare skin of his body.

“I don’t…I don’t want to stop. I need to feel like my body is mine again.” he breathed against her lips, his hand sliding down the smooth of her bare back. “But I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

Sansa suddenly recalled what he had said to Cersei back in the forest.

 _You saw fit to make me your mindless fuck puppet, your obedient little slave._

“You won’t hurt me” she replied determinedly, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would do all that was in her power to protect him, the way he was shielding her. “I promise you, I want this. I want you.”

Pressing her hand against his cheek, Jaime tilted her chin and kissed her once again.

Very slowly, he moved his lips across the expanse of her skin, tracing a steady trajectory down past her clavicle. A gentle hand stroked the side of her body, before his fingers moved with purpose between her legs, brushing lightly over her clit. Sansa gasped out loud at the sensation, barely acknowledging the fact that he had steered her towards a nearby divan. 

The back of her knees hit the edge of the cushioned surface, causing her to fall backwards into downy pillows. She couldn’t help herself then - Sansa giggled, opening her eyes. As soon as she caught sight of his burning expression however, all laughter died in her chest. 

Climbing clumsily onto the divan so that he leaned over her, his soft lips latched gently onto her breasts, laving each with almost worshipful attention. His left hand returned to their place between her legs, stroking and teasing, before he slipped the tip of his forefinger into her inviting warmth.

Sansa arched her body against his touch, crying out softly in need. 

“Is this…” he fought for breath as he lifted his gaze. “Is this ok?”

“Yes.” Sansa whispered, wondering how she could even think coherently as he scraped lightly against the walls of her slick passage. Her own hands were fisted in his golden hair. 

“Sansa, have you ever…I mean…will this be your first…uh…that is to say…”

“Does it matter?” she interrupted, not missing the distinct hardness she could feel within his trousers. When he continued staring at her questioningly, she huffed in slight indignation. “No, alright? I’ve never. Don’t be such a man about this.”

A hint of his old smugness returned as a leonine smile spread across his features. 

_He looks like a cat with a fat canary within its reach,_ she thought.

“Good. I suppose this makes you utterly mine.” he stated. Leaning on his right arm, faster than she could have thought possible, Jaime relieved himself of the rest of his clothing. Sansa gasped as she felt his naked cock against her thigh. 

His good hand tilted her face so her lips would meet his; at the same time, he slid his length inside of her. As Jaime ripped through the last vestiges of her innocence, Sansa started slightly at the sting. 

Jaime swallowed her moan with a determined kiss as his thumb stroked her cheek soothingly. Against the pain, she felt him tense within her, felt him holding himself back in trembling resistance. 

“I can stop if you want me to.” he breathed. “I swear, I can…”

“Shhh…” she found herself saying. Sansa shifted her hips a little, allowing her body to become accustomed to his presence. “Just go slow…please…”

She could have sworn he sighed in relief as he began to move at a careful pace, stoking at a fire inside her that had yet to be extinguished. 

“Sansa…” he whispered against her skin like a litany.

Dawn found the two of them wrapped in each others arms and curled under their robes, soundly sleeping past the first rays of the early morning sun. Tyrion took in the sight, half disgusted and half oddly relieved, before he made his way down to the lobby in search of breakfast.

***

The three of them stood in front of the large windows, staring out at the airplane positioned directly in front of them. Already, the calls for them to board the craft had commenced. 

“You sure this thing will carry us across the ocean?” Sansa asked nervously. “It looks a bit…heavy.”

Jaime tucked a comforting arm around her and kissed her hair, saying reassuringly, “Yes. This is the easiest way for us to travel without being tracked. Most of our people aren’t very good at understanding Muggle technology. Well, with certain notable exceptions, obviously.”

Raising his new right hand, very gingerly, Jaime smoothed his palm over her glossy hair. Between Sansa and Tyrion, the two Ravenclaws had worked out a way to give Jaime a replacement limb, which looked and felt real. Still, it was just a transfigured thing; while it could grasp clumsily at objects, it sensed nothing, and could not cast a working spell.

Although, Sansa blushed as her thoughts wandered, Jaime had already figured out a myriad of uses for his new hand, particularly when they were alone. Judging from the flare of desire that momentarily clouded his eyes as she looked up at him, she knew those intimate scenes stayed with him as well.

Tyrion hurried back to his travel companions, his arms laden with crisps. “You wouldn’t believe the flavours these muggles have. I mean, what is ‘Ranch’ and what does it taste like?”

She couldn’t keep herself from giggling.

“We’ll find somewhere safe, somewhere far away.” Jaime had promised her only the night before as they surveyed their freshly delivered and expertly forged British passports. “Somewhere no one knows who we are, and we can start again without any fear. We’ll even owl your family, let them know you’re fine.”

“Will I ever be fine?” she asked him bleakly. 

Jaime pulled her into a hug as she buried her face in his chest. 

“I swear on my life I’ll protect you.” he promised softly.

They had two weeks before the next full moon, two weeks to ensure she was in a position where she couldn’t hurt anyone when she finally turned. 

In the time since their flight from Hogwarts, the Starks had reported Sansa missing, and had highlighted to the Wizarding press, the importance of finding her before the next full moon. It was clear her new status was now a matter of public knowledge; turning back to the magical community had effectively become impossible, not without her life becoming substantially altered. 

Of the matter of Remus Lupin, the Daily Prophet remained silent, but Albus Dumbledore himself was being raked over hot coals, both for the sake of Sansa’s predicament, and for her subsequent disappearance. 

Concerning Cersei’s arrest and misdeeds however, or the fact that the other two Lannister siblings were nowhere to be found, the papers made not a single mention. 

“One would be forgiven to think our Father may have lined a pocket or two at the Prophet.” Tyrion had observed wryly as he ignited a copy of the newspaper over a small bin. “Whatever would people think of us if they only knew how we _bought_ our loyalties?”

“I can’t imagine anyone being surprised at what the Lannisters are capable of.” Jaime replied bitterly, watching as the ashes drifted lazily in the air.

None of them were fool enough to believe Tywin hadn't launched his own search for his children of course. Unlike the Starks or the Aurors, the Lannisters were well aware of how both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds operated, given the family’s vast business dealings. 

The irony that their father had aligned himself with the likes of Tom Riddle and his Muggle hating fanatics was not lost on either of the brothers. If anything, Sansa sensed a sort of confusion on the part of Tyrion each time he considered his father’s motivations.

Regardless, even though the three of them were cocooned by Muggle London, it was painfully obvious that the city would not protect them forever. Their only real choice was to run, and run far, or else risk capture.

“Hey.” He squeezed her hand, summoning her thoughts back to Heathrow Airport. He smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We never did figure this part out. I suppose I ought to start calling you my girlfriend.”

Observing his false cheer, Sansa would that she had it in her power give him back what Cersei had so brutally ripped away. When his sister imposed her will upon Jaime, she had also irrevocably shattered a part of him. Already, she missed the shine in his eyes, the mischievous sparkle of which she had become so fond. 

Perhaps she couldn’t give back what he - nor she - had lost. But all hope could not have been destroyed, she decided. After all, here they still stood, trying to find something better, to gain something more. 

“You’re a bit slow, but at least you’ve arrived.” she replied firmly, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss him lightly on his lips. The way he smiled back at her then, without a trace of darkness, the manner in which his left hand cradled her as if she were something precious…Sansa knew in her heart, it wasn’t too late for either of them. 

“Please do stop being disgusting.” Tyrion scowled, adjusting his backpack. Rolling his eyes, Jaime gestured subtly with a carefully concealed wand in his left hand, and magically mussed his brother’s hair. This resulted in a minor slap fight between the siblings.

Finding it within herself to push past the twinge in her heart, Sansa took a step, and moved forwards onto the next chapter of her life.


	7. Die Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> X-Over with Last of Us video game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> X-Over with Last of Us video game
> 
> For those who’ve never played the game, the Last of Us has a riveting storyline that can be summarized as:  
> \- There has been a zombie apocalypse; main female character is somehow immune  
> \- Main (older) male character is tasked with delivering her to a medical facility to see if they can find a cure  
> \- Facility is run be rebels who oppose the governing forces of the living - they’re called Fireflies  
> \- Main male character’s best friend dies trying to protect main characters  
> \- Male character’s brother runs a safe zone at a power plant in Wyoming  
> \- Bad, living, guys in the game are called “Hunters”; they're rapists and cannibals  
> \- Main characters form an unbreakable bond  
> \- Main male character refuses to let female character die for the sake of a ‘cure’
> 
> Note: Sansa is **19** in this story and Jaime is about 37.

_“I was gonna die young, now I gotta wait for you hon” Sylvan Esso_

**Now**

They had been in Jackson, Wyoming six months before Jaime cracked.

At first, he hadn't thought much of events as they were transpiring. What did it matter if the boys in the not-so-abandoned power plant made eyes at Sansa? They would have been blind not to stare. The girl was beautiful, with her porcelain skin and bright, copper hair.

None of their lascivious stares or pathetic drooling mattered however, because as far as he was concerned, the girl was his.

He'd paid the price for her in blood. Giving her up was not an option.

Just because he hadn't done a thing about it yet, because he still had a shred of decency enough that he didn't want to take a girl almost young enough to be his daughter, didn't change certain facets of their relationship. Was it so bad he was waiting on the right moment?

Trouble was, maybe she wasn't aware of his opinion on the matter, because maybe he never did let her in on his thoughts.

The man began to reconsider his entire strategy as he took in the sight of Sansa and Harry sitting close together under the Birch tree by the dam.

The boy was whispering something in her right ear, and had his fingers brushing lightly against the freckled skin of her forearm.

Jaime frowned. He’d never been big on sharing.

**Then**

Pulling himself out of a feverish delirium was like dragging his body through a thick layer of tar and wax, like trying to run through silt and quicksand. When at last, his heavy eyelids fluttered open, he found himself alone in the cold.

"Sansa?" He croaked as his dark eyes sought for that familiar gleam of of red in the shadows that surrounded him. Slowly, his eyes became accustomed to the dim light.

Sight however, did not bring him any relief. Clutching at his healing wound, the man felt for the pistol he usually kept tucked at his hip.

For ten years, since losing Cersei and the kids to the Cordycep Outbreak, he had spent his days existing in a cold shell where he allowed nothing and no one to mean a thing to him. It was far too risky, the thought of growing attached to another person, only to watch them die either at the jaws of the undead, or at the hands of other, desperate living beings.

As Jaime surveyed the space that was completely devoid of one very specific redhead, he understood with a certain amount of dismay, that a certain phase of his life was officially over.

"Fuck." He swore aloud.

The stakes had gotten real. If he didn't move fast enough, the one person in this cruel and senseless world that made him feel as if he were actually alive, might be lost forever.

**Now**

"Brother, maybe you ought to calm down." Ty said at his elbow, peering upwards at Jaime. "I get that you want to protect her, but maybe it's a good thing she’s hanging around with boys her own age."

"Boys her age want one thing." He retorted, not missing the troubled look on the younger man's scarred face. "I'm afraid it's not on offer."

"Shouldn't she get to decide for herself?" Ty asked mildly.

"That was the whole idea." He grunted in response. It was halfway true; he wanted her to decide, but in his mind, there had only ever been one acceptable outcome.

Turning away, he missed the sideway’s glance Sansa cast in his direction. The girl wore a sharp smile as she pushed Harry aside.

**Then**

Though Jaime was keenly aware that the dark and twisted depths every last living person possessed had become well plumbed in the years since the Outbreak, he had never been the type who indulged in torturing those he considered his enemies.

Killing however - that came to him with more ease than he anticipated, Smashing a man's head in, ending a life with a bullet or a blade or even his bare hands…none of that fazed the man in the end. 

At first, the lack of guilt, rather than guilt itself, kept him awake at night, but even that period hadn’t lasted. Jaime was built to be a killer, he found out. 

As his search for Sansa stretched on into hours however, and as he started to understand that the girl hadn't just got up and disappeared on her own accord, a bloodlust he had never known began to rise in him that was quite different from what he was used to.

Stumbling on a group of Hunters, the final piece of the puzzle clicked in place as he listened to them speaking of the 'tasty piece' they'd nabbed. Suddenly, twisting a nail into the living flesh of her abductors seemed like a horribly satisfying idea. 

So he did exactly that. Over the course of the next few hours, the blood he shed, the cries he drew, the lives he'd ended as he carved a bloody path towards her...none of it felt wrong.

Every scream felt like justice.

When he found her covered in her would-be rapist's blood, alive and well, but sobbing in shock and fear, the relief had damned near brought him to his knees.

Holding on to her soft, shaking body as she wept into his blood soaked clothing, Jaime wondered just what kind of monster he had become for her sake.

And why he didn't care as much as he probably should have.

**Now**

He sat alone in the living room, watching the front door intently. Their house was one of the many abandoned homesteads in the vicinity of the power plant, which Tyrion had so cleverly fenced in to keep out Hunters and Clickers alike.

At last the door creaked open, and Sansa stepped through in that filmy dress she'd taken to wearing everywhere as of late.

"Where have you been?" He asked as if he didn't know.

"Out." She tilted her chin.

"That's not an answer." He said calmly, though inside, he seethed at the thought that she had worn that dress in the presence that idiot boy. The light fabric hugged at her curves in tantalizing detail.

"I told you before. You're not my father." she murmured softly. The way she looked at him - there was a shadow in her gaze that made his blood pound in his ears. “My father’s dead.”

"I'm glad we've established that." He leaned back. “Close the door and come over here.”

**Then**

“Her life for the life of millions.” Melisandre begged. They were in the lobby of the decrepit hospital where he had himself delivered Sansa, not realizing the true intentions of these guerrilla warriors. The woman had a gun pointed right at his head. “See some sense. Her body might hold the cure for all of the infected, a vaccine for all the living. Isn’t that worth everything?”

Long before he had ever met her, everyone had taken to calling the leader of the Fireflies the Red Woman. She was thusly named for the trail of blood and brutality she left in her wake wherever she went, all done in the name of the greater good.

With her weapon aimed squarely at him, Melisandre stood, arguing fervently in the name of hope for a better world, a dream of a better future. 

“I am not sacrificing Sansa’s life for a ‘might’ or a ‘maybe’ Mel.” Jaime gritted out, refusing to release his hold on Sansa’s body as he fell to his knees in exhaustion. “The infected are literally the walking dead, and this world’s already ruined. I won’t let you kill her for some hopeless cause.”

“You’re a good man for trying Jaime Lannister. For that, I’ll let you live.” The woman lifted her hands in a sign of supplication, though it was clear she thought she had already won. Somewhere close by, Jaime could hear the sound of heavy boots pounding against the concrete floor, heading in their direction. Thinking fast, he dropped Sansa’s legs and drew his own revolver. Without any hesitation, he fired.

**Now**

Closing the door behind her, Sansa slowly and wordlessly approached him. The moment she was within arm’s reach, Jaime reached out and yanked her down so that she landed firmly in his lap with her back against his chest.

There was no gentle brush of hands, no tentative stroking of her cheek as he curled the fingers of his right hand around her jaw and pressed his lips against her mouth. One arm curled around her waist, holding her firmly in place. To his surprise, she opened her mouth against his almost immediately, meeting his urgency in kind. 

“You’re not my father,” she murmured. “But sometimes I think you would like to play that game.”

“What?” he asked in a low voice. His right thumb pressed against her swollen lip possessively even as his other hand rucked her skirt up, revealing an expanse of creamy skin underneath.

Her answering smile was far too knowing. “We can play that game if you want.”

“Have you played this _game_ then?” he asked, a gravelly scrape in his voice betraying the undercurrent of his anger. With one hand gripping her thigh, he knew he would leave bruises upon her fair skin if he didn’t let go soon.

“What would you like me to tell you?” her lashes were cast low now.

His green eyes regarded her blue ones. In his fevered imagination, he saw her bent over another man’s body, saw her lifting her little ass in the air.

“By the end of this night, you will be my good girl.” he growled, dropping his hands to her hips and flipping her so she lay face down across his lap; her hands reached out before her, trying to find balance against the soft cushions of the tattered couch. 

There was no doubt in his mind, she could feel his cock pressing into her belly from that angle. 

Pushing the hem of her dress upwards, Jaime ripped at the thin cotton which obscured the smooth of her bottom from him. Sansa emitted a small squeak of surprise that brought a grim smile to his lips - perhaps she had no idea what she had been asking for after all.

Still. It was time she learned her place and where she belonged.

“You will count this out. Every time you miss, I will give you two more. Do you understand?” he asked, winding a thick lock of her red hair in his left hand. 

“Yes…Daddy.” she gasped, sending another rush of blood straight south in his body. 

The first slap landed on her ass, eliciting a small yelp. 

“One,” she counted in a tremulous whisper. 

Jaime forced himself to focus, tried not to imagine shoving her off his lap and climbing atop her. Bringing his hand down again and again, he could feel her arousal seeping into the fabric of his clothing. Pausing after the tenth slap, both of them breathing hard, he dipped his fingers between her thighs and found her soaking wet.

As he rubbed roughly against her slick folds, Sansa let out a low moan. Dragging her head up by her hair, Jaime pressed damp the fingertips of his right hand against her soft lips.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” he murmured, watching as her tongue darted out to taste herself. “Good girls shouldn’t like being treated this.”

“I’m sorry Daddy, teach me to be your good girl,” she answered breathlessly. 

Shifting, her allowed Sansa to settle on her knees between his legs, and unzipped himself from his jeans. 

“Have you ever done this?” he asked, reaching again to wind her hair into his hand and puling her so her smooth cheek brushed against his hard length. It took every ounce of effort he had not to groan and shove himself into her mouth.

“No Daddy.” she said with wide eyes. There was a tremor in her voice that made him wonder if she was lying. 

“Open.” he instructed, and pushed himself past her willing lips. Pumping slowly, he watched as she tried to gain a sense of equilibrium, tried to accustom herself to his rhythm. Even with the scrape of her teeth, even with a seriously fucked up fear that she might have done this with somebody else, the way her mouth and her tongue felt against him made him want to thrust as fast as he could.

“That’s a good girl…” he whispered, mesmerized as her blue eyes flicked up at him. As the minutes wore on, Jaime realized that he didn’t want their first time to end like this. Pulling away, he released his grip on her silky hair and shifted backwards. 

“Take off your dress.”

Without hesitation, Sansa stood up and yanked the clingy material off her form as he took himself in hand for the moment. In a few seconds, the young woman stood before him, bare as the day she was born.

Reaching for her, he tugged her close and moved her body so that she straddled his hips. Without waiting for him, Sansa held on to Jaime’s shoulders and sank downwards, throwing her head back with abandon as she took him utterly into her warmth. The ease with which she did this confirmed his worst suspicions, though the fact was, with every passing second, it mattered less and less what she did, with whom and when.

All that mattered was that she was here, now, with him. 

“Look at me,” his whispered as he held her slender hips and thrust himself deep inside her eager cunt. She didn’t seem to hear him, lost in the pleasure of the moment. Reaching up, he cupped the base of her neck and nudged her gaze towards him. In a husky timbre, he repeated himself. “Look at me.”

Sansa looked him in the eye as she moved against him. 

“That’s my good girl…” he murmured. 

“Yes Daddy.” she whined, riding hard. “Your good girl. Always.”

“I mean it. Mine.” he growled. “No more playing games with anyone else. Mine. Promise me.”

“I promise, I promise…” she wailed as his fingers slid downwards and pinched a stiff nipple. “Please, I need to cum.”

“Make yourself cum,” he ordered, and slammed into her with increasing urgency. “Do it.”

Snaking a slender hand between them, Sansa began to stroke at her clit as she met his desperate pounding. With a howl, she arched against him. In answer, Jaime roared his own completion. 

**Then**

“I don’t understand.” Sansa said woodenly as she stared at the road ahead of them.

“They did a CAT scan and found that the immunity you have…they’ve already seen its type before. It wasn’t something they could use.” the lie came easily to him.

“So it was all for nothing, this journey. Brienne died for nothing trying to protect me.” she stated.

He winced at the mention of their long-dead travel companion - his best friend and occasional bed mate - who had so bravely sacrificed herself to ensure the two of them would live. Silently, Jaime wished there was a way he could have told Sansa the truth of the matter, and why he did what he did. 

For close to two years, Sansa had lived with the hope that she held the cure for humanity somewhere inside of her. It wasn’t something she had wanted out of naive vanity. Instead, her hope came from a desperate and misguided place where she had desired, badly, to atone for the fact that she still lived, though her entire family had succumbed to the infection. 

In too many ways, Jaime could relate. Why should he get to live when his lover and his three children were all dead?

“We did what we could. No more, no less.” he said at last. 

“Promise me that’s true.” she said, looking at him intently.

“I promise.” he said firmly. 

**Now**

Cradling her smaller body in his arms, he said, very softly, “I love you. I’ve loved you a long time now. I was only waiting for you to grow up a little.”

“Everyone I love is dead. Ned, Catelyn, Robb, Jon, Arya, Bran, Rickon…” she listed the names of her family members in a tone that caused the hair on his neck to stand on end. “You’re all I have left Jaime. Do you understand what that means?”

“Sansa…” he looked down at her, pushing away at a sharp stab of pain in his chest.

She met his gaze steadily; it pained him to note that there was nothing innocent left in her blue depths. There was no sign that the young girl he had met what felt like a lifetime ago, was still in there somewhere. “The only thing I know now, is that _you_ are all I have. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t. Not for as long as I live,” Jaime said fiercely. 

With a small smirk, she added, “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move old man. It figures, I had to be the one to launch an offensive.”

He thought back to the way she had settled herself beside Harry, the quick darting of her eyes every time he was close by. Jaime could be a real idiot.

“Did you and…” he found himself asking against his better judgement.

“Please.” she reached upwards and kissed his stubbled chin. “Like I would tell you. It doesn’t matter anymore though does it?”

Sitting in the darkness and breathing her in, Jaime could almost believe that she might yet love him back. Judging from the way she snuggled into his chest, he felt a burgeoning pinch of hope.

It was enough for now, he thought as he drifted off into a semi-contented slumber. 

It had to be. Because what else was there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> X-overed for the smut possibilities, but also because I liked the idea of a Sansa with survivor's guilt, and a Jaime who has to learn to care for someone all over again in a very damaged way.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Stress produces weird fanfic.


End file.
